You're One In A Million You're One In Two
by callmesandy
Summary: AU from the end of Abducted, Olivia stays on our side after she arrives in the Gift shop. Everything changes after that leading to a very different entrance to the Machine and what happens after. (Olivia/Peter, Altliv/AltLincoln). Dubious consent, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, depression, trauma.
1. How did I sleep through a kidnapping?

Not mine, no profit garnered. Title and all chapter titles from Kristin Hersh lyrics. Thanks so so much to the Jam for encouragement and beta. All mistakes mine. Please heed the warnings, both Peter and Olivia have reactions to the trauma they experience.

* * *

Olivia heard the people coming in as she plunged down in the tank. She closed her eyes and saw red. There's no place like home, she thought, a manic giggle in her head. She imagined, she remembered who she was and how she'd gotten here.

Then, here was the gift shop. She needed to move, to get far enough away they couldn't drag her back. How had they gotten her back last time? It was cortexiphan. Cortexiphan was what they'd synthesized from her brain. She kept remembering things, facts crowding into her head. She blinked and begged to be let outside. They couldn't drag her home from outside.

The freaked out custodian unlocked the door for Olivia and watched her walk out into the cold dark night. Olivia looked over her shoulder and waited to be caught again. She waited to be pulled back, find herself staring at the Secretary or Brandon. The cortexiphan she'd given herself bubbled in her blood. She was cold and wet. She was still home. This was her here.

She laughed as she walked to the edge of the Island. She'd done it. She was home. Olivia won.

Which Olivia was she? No, she knew that absolutely. Charlie was dead, she'd shot the shapeshifter who'd killed him in the head. She would not see Charlie in the morning, she would not see Lincoln.

Except now she had no idea what to do. Her blood was boiling and she thought she saw fires on the edge of her vision. She looked around but there was nothing. No ferry for hours. Olivia didn't have a phone. She should have used the phone in the gift store. But she didn't want to turn around. They would drag her back. She had finally beaten the Secretary, so she wasn't giving him a chance to beat her.

She was shivering. For all she knew, everyone was dead. The other Olivia, Olivia had replaced her. So where had the other woman gone? Here. She must have gone here. If they thought that Olivia was her, then they could all be dead.

Except Peter. Walternate wouldn't kill Peter, not ever. She remembered kissing him, really him, in that apartment.

Peter, she thought. She couldn't stand. She sunk to her knees. She covered her face with her hands. She could swim a mile to Jersey City. Then she could call the FBI. She wondered who would answer? If she were in Boston this would be easier. If she were home this would be easier.

Olivia wondered what would happen if she clicked her heels together and said there's no place like home. She rubbed at her face again and then closed her eyes. She could do this. She would need to swim. She would.

Olivia felt a wrench in her gut. She opened her eyes and she was across the street from her apartment. Cortexiphan was frightening. Olivia was frightening. To herself. She was hallucinating. She wasn't. She walked to her apartment. The hide a key was gone. She could pick the lock. She didn't have her tools.

Olivia went downstairs. She walked by a car with a cell phone on the seat. She broke the window with her gun. It was uselessly waterlogged, so here was a use for it. The phone wasn't locked which Olivia hadn't even thought about. But it wasn't locked. She dialed Peter's number. She always remembered numbers.

"Hello," Peter mumbled.

"Peter," Olivia said. "I made it home."

"What?"

"It's me, Olivia, I've been on the other side. I made it home. I can't get into my apartment."

Peter was silent. Then he said, "Give me five minutes and come back." He hung up.

She put the phone back in the car.

Peter had said to give him five minutes. He was in the apartment. He was in her apartment. He was with her. The other Olivia was in her apartment, sleeping there with Peter. Peter, she knew Peter perfectly. She thought she knew Peter. It seemed like it was years ago, not months ago, he'd left. She went to the hospital and he'd disappeared. Peter, she thought. He said five minutes.

Her blood felt like sludge. She turned back towards the apartment.

She heard two shots in quick succession. She banged on the door. No one answered. She kicked the door open, pain shooting through her ankle and knee. The living room was dark. Things had been moved. She went to the bedroom.

It was her, lying on the ground, two shots in her chest, blood in her hair, blood pooling on the floor, ugly bruises all around her neck. Which Olivia was she? She blinked and smelled the blood, overwhelming her. What had Peter done? Had Peter done this? This wasn't the Peter she knew. Was it?

Olivia saw Peter. He was sitting on the floor beside the bed. His head was between his knees. He was only wearing briefs. He had her gun in his hand.

Peter had done this. This Peter, real Peter. Had been sleeping in his underwear in her bed with Olivia, but not Olivia. Olivia had been with Frank, Peter had been with Olivia. They'd been in the wrong beds like Goldilocks.

She stepped over the body. Peter said, "I think she's still breathing." His voice sounded unreal. What would happen if Olivia wished for something, would she get it, like she'd wished for Boston? What would she wish for? She wished it was ten minutes ago and she didn't know Peter was sleeping in her bed and Peter hadn't murdered someone. Tried to murder someone.

Peter broke Steig's hand for her. Since then he'd had Ella on his knee, laughing with her. Now he'd killed Olivia, tried to kill Olivia. Olivia was hard to kill.

Olivia took the gun from his hand easily. She picked up his phone and called Broyles. She said, "You should come here." She might have said more. She sat on the bed. Peter and the other woman had been sharing this bed.

Peter and the other woman had been sleeping together. He thought it was her. When he found out it wasn't, he tried to kill her. It was a lot to think about and Olivia had already had a big day.

Police and FBI arrived. Olivia passed out.

!

Two years ago, 3 days after he beat the shit out of Michael, Tess had called him and picked him up from the hotel. She was giddy and manic and still mad at him, but once he'd loved her so he didn't mind. She wanted to pay for his dinner and laugh at her stories and his stories. She touched his thigh. She tightened her grip. By dessert, her thumb kept brushing against his dick and his jeans were too tight. She was brittle, which was not a word he used to use about Tess.

She had a feral smile that night. He didn't ask about it. He wasn't always the greatest person in the world. He was rarely that guy. Two years with Olivia had changed him. Back then he'd been mostly criminal, resisting what Fringe division was doing to him. They went to a hotel two blocks from the restaurant, neither were getting four stars for anything but convenience. Tess said, "You fucking beat up Michael, you fucking idiot," literally while he was inside her, fucking her.

"Are you complaining?"

She smiled like she was unbelievably high and shook her head. When she got off him and poured herself another glass of wine, he reached in her purse for another condom and touched metal. He pulled out the gun. "What the fuck is this?"

"It's a gun," she said, taking it from him. "I used it to kill Michael and Big Eddie and shoot their stupid computers and then I set their books on fire. You're free, I'm free. We're all free."

"What?" He was shocked and surprised, genuinely surprised, at what she was capable of. Tess was someone he knew and had loved, she'd sat on his hotel bed and watched cartoons with him when he couldn't do much of anything.

Sitting in the hospital, driven here by FBI agents, in jeans that smelled like Olivia's now blood soaked room, he was remembering his confusion at Tess. He laughed and rubbed his eyes and one of the agents turned to look at him like Peter had sworn in a church.

Back then, Tess had said, "Ever since you ran off and left me, Michael has, he hit me. I'm done. I'm not scared anymore."

"How drugged up are you now?" Because that would make her behavior make sense.

"I had a little coke, but don't worry, I didn't bring it with me. I am also pretty drunk. Just like you," she said. She pulled a last condom out of her purse. She tucked the gun back in.

She held the condom up and grinned. He had loved her. She was definitely crazy and she was like someone he didn't know at all. He should tell her to surrender and make a case for herself. Who was he to be Mr. Law and Order, he wondered then. He wondered now. He went down on Tess, his wet mouth on her killer pussy. She said it first, laughing and pulling his hair to get him closer. "How do you like my killer pussy?"

After they'd used that last condom, he went to the bathroom and took a shower. It was long enough for her to leave. She had left $75k on his pillow with a note about a refund for overcharging interest. "Tess makes a joke," he said out loud. He pocketed the money and cleaned the room so there was no sign she had been there.

Two days later Olivia had cornered him to talk about the case. "This woman confessed to her mother, but she's left town. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"No idea," he said. "Good for her, those guys were assholes."

"That's not the way it's supposed to work," Olivia said. He hadn't told her about his past relationship with Tess, he'd trained himself so well he barely reacted when Olivia showed him the picture. The $75,000 was split among five accounts Peter still had hidden away.

Maybe he would need that money now to get him out of jail. Her blood and skin was under his fingernails. He waited for someone to take all the forensic evidence and arrest him.

Broyles sat across from Peter, his expression typically unreadable. He said, "Peter, tell me what happened."

Peter shrugged. "Olivia called. I knew, it was clear what had happened. I gave the other one one question to answer and she didn't even try. We rolled onto the floor. Her head was already bleeding, I think she must have hit her head when we fell to the floor. I choked her until she stopped breathing. Then she started breathing so I choked her again. Then she started breathing but I couldn't kill her again. I don't know why I didn't do it again."

"Why did you shoot her?"

Peter frowned and looked at Broyles. He said, "In horror movies, they always get up. They get up when you think they're done. So I shot her to keep her down." He could hear the words and know they were wrong but it seemed logical to him.

Broyles just looked at him. Did the man even have micro expressions? Or Peter couldn't read neon signs on people's faces because he was gone, he was done, he was no better than Walter in 1991.

"You stay here," Broyles said. Broyles didn't cuff Peter to his surprise. He should be in jail.

He fell asleep in the hospital waiting room. He woke up hours later. He felt like he'd had the shit beaten out of him. It was the aftermath of all the adrenaline from Olivia returning and what he'd done, he could hear Walter tell him that in his head. It wasn't a great sign he was hearing voices. He noticed the FBI agent standing over to the side, not even looking at Peter. Noted, Peter thought. He got up and walked out.

!

Olivia was floating. She was on a magic carpet. She blinked a few times and tried not to be so ridiculous. Ridiculous, she thought, remembering the way Lincoln said it when he was drunk. That was her memory, that wasn't implanted. She grabbed at things in her head, trying to organize.

"How are you feeling, Agent Dunham?"

"What am I on?" She scrunched up her face and relaxed. Whose voice was she using, she wondered.

"Dr. Bishop gave you something to counteract the overdose of Cortexiphan," Broyles said. "I'm sorry."

"For Walter's help?" Olivia found she could focus now. "Or because in two months you didn't even realize I'd been replaced?" She was angrier than she realized. That was all her, that was a comforting realization. The other Olivia didn't have the same wellspring of outrage. Lucky her.

Broyles shook his head. "None of us did. I am profoundly sorry about that."

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes, barely," Broyles said.

"Did you arrest Peter?"

"For what? Technically that woman doesn't even exist."

"She's a human being and he nearly killed her," Olivia said. She loved him. She came back for him. He was capable of this. He was capable of more.

Broyles frowned. "Frankly I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same thing in his place."

Olivia said, "I don't think that's true." She wiggled her toes and twitched. She felt a little drunk.

"I can imagine his anger," Broyles said.

"I need to know what happened while I was gone," Olivia said. "What was she here for, besides Peter?"

Broyles sat down and gave her the briefing she needed. He added in some thoughts and avenues they'd explored in the last 15 hours since discovering the other Olivia's betrayal. "There will be more to look into."

It was astonishing. They'd discovered the machine on this side and built it. Newton was dead. Peter had been happy. It was two months of her life lost. The other Olivia and Peter had had sex. She needed to find her focus again.

"I'm going to sleep now," Olivia said. "You can debrief me tomorrow."

"I can even wait until the day after," Broyles said. He patted her hand apologetically. It was inadequate. She wanted to smash his hand, backhand him. How could he not know, how could any of them? She closed her eyes and waited for sleep. Why did she always have to save herself, why hadn't someone come for her? She liked the anger because it felt like her true self.

Olivia checked herself out of the hospital when her vision was back to normal. Broyles had brought by keys to a new SUV and her wallet and house keys. He'd also brought clothes or someone else had. They seemed new. That woman hadn't bothered to get a new wallet or change the key chain. Someone had cleaned everything out of her wallet besides her credit cards and ID. The photo of Ella she had had behind her library card was gone.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do. What was she supposed to do, she thought in circles. She was in her car and she drove.

She drove herself to her apartment. She had to decide what to do about the place. She didn't want to go inside. She wanted someone else to do all of this. Her first thought was to burn it to ground. She should probably get a few things before she lit the match. The door was unlocked.

The washing machine was running. She took another two steps inside. She followed the noises into the kitchen. This was reminding her of two nights ago when she came home. She was once again following odd noises in a place that no longer felt familiar. Peter was scrubbing the empty refrigerator. There were two full garbage bags next to him. He looked at her blankly. "Hey," he said. "I just wanted to get your apartment clean."

"Okay," Olivia said. "This doesn't seem crazy at all." Peter should be in jail, she thought. She was so glad to see him.

"It seems really crazy," Peter said, going back to the fridge. It practically gleamed.

"I was thinking of moving out, actually." Olivia glanced at the bedroom and then back at Peter.

"That's a good idea, actually," Peter said. He backed away from the fridge. "You're not getting your deposit back, though."

She couldn't look at Peter and she couldn't listen to his monotone. In the back of her mind, she saw herself on the ground, neck red and bruised. She saw herself bleeding on the floor of her own bedroom. Peter did that. Then he'd come here, apparently, after Broyles decided a violent and brutal attempted murder was okay. She went back into the living room and sat on the couch. Then she reconsidered and sat on the floor. She said, "Is anything worth keeping?"

Peter sat down next to her. This close she could smell the alcohol on him. He said, "I think you're the best judge of that."

"I don't really want to go in the bedroom," she said. "That's where the things I might want to keep would be."

"No books? No special spoons or mugs?" He sounded more like the Peter she remembered.

"There isn't much I'm sentimental about," Olivia said. "A couple books. Some jewelry. My coat, if she didn't wear it."

"Leather jacket," Peter said. His voice was monotone again. Devoid of emotion, she thought. "She wore a leather jacket most of the time."

"You're scary," she said. She touched his hand. It looked swollen and red, it felt hot. "You're scaring me." She wanted to hate him for what he'd done. She waited for her anger to come back. She had a lot to be angry with Peter about.

She loved him more.

"Really?" He didn't look at her or curl his hand around hers. She wasn't used to him not reacting to her touch. He stood up and said, "I probably just need some sleep." He went into the bedroom. He came back with her jewelry box and her winter coat.

"This is going to be expensive," Olivia said. "Moving, buying things."

"I always assumed you had a fortune in your savings," he said. He was slightly less impassive this time. It was like the Peter she remembered was wavering in and out. Coming into focus and blurring out again. Maybe all of the cortexiphan hadn't left her system yet. Which Peter had strangled that woman?

"Good tailored suits are more expensive than you might think," Olivia said."I've given Rachel money, too, over the years. But you're right, I've saved up enough money to move."

"You could try to make the FBI pay for it," he said. He fiddled with her rings. She stopped herself from pulling everything out of his hands.

She hadn't paid attention to what he said. "What?"

"Shouldn't the FBI pay you for damages?"

She grabbed her rings away from him. He held up his hands in a surrender position. She said, "Sorry. I guess that would be nice, but I don't think Broyles has the funds."

"I should go," Peter said. He stood up again.

"Go where?"

Peter said, "Good point," and sat back down.

Olivia thought they should go somewhere. Find a hotel room with two beds and drink themselves to death. She thought about saying just the first part out loud. He should have known. Everyone should have known. Peter most of all. She couldn't imagine anything she could do to him to make him feel worse. He would welcome a punch in the face. His eyes were dark and blank.

She said, "Let's get a hotel room. With two beds. We can drink. Then I'll find a place to live." She put one foot in front of the other and right now she needed a place to sleep. She needed to not be in her apartment. She didn't want to leave Peter.

Welcome home, she thought.

The hotel was more of a motel. 3 years ago, she and Peter had examined a room like the one they were in, the brain surgeon, she thought. If she'd ever followed up on Walter's ramblings that night, who knew what would have happened.

They bought alcohol. Olivia went to Target to get clothes for the next week. "No big decisions for a week," she said to Peter. "That's the kind of advice they give you after big life changes."

Peter nodded. Somewhere in the drive, he'd deflated. She'd never known him like this. Like he wasn't even there. Maybe this was how he had been after he left the hospital. That was just, that happened months ago. Poor Peter, she thought. Poor Olivia. She heard it in her head in the other Olivia's voice, that constant mocking.

She stepped outside the hotel and decided to drive again.

Olivia went to the hospital to see the other Olivia. She was heavily guarded. Olivia looked over the report the doctors had written. Peter had done a lot of damage. The woman couldn't speak, might not be able to for months. The gunshots had been clean. She was an Olympic marksman, Olivia thought. The other Olivia would still be able to make impossible shots even with this side's medicine. Olivia thought primitive medicine. She felt for a moment she'd walked into a hospital from the 1930s. But it was only primitive 70 year old medicine to someone from the other side.

Olivia looked back at the report. That woman was experiencing a heavy period. Her injection had worn off.

She would live. Olivia wondered if Peter had wanted that.

Olivia walked into the room where that woman was being kept. Her neck looked worse than three days ago. If Olivia got close, she could probably see the shape of Peter's hands. Instead, she left.

The next day she had a debrief. She talked to Broyles. He took notes and she wrote things down. She liked talking to Broyles, it felt very familiar to all the thoughts in her head. They discussed what had happened on this side, what had happened on the other side. She missed Charlie. She missed the Charlie she had seen a week ago. She missed Lincoln. She didn't say either of those things out loud.

She went back to the motel. Peter had barely moved. The TV was on. She ordered pizza and Peter sat up and ate a piece.

She dreamed and didn't remember any of it. She woke up and did sit-ups and push-ups. She looked through her Target purchases and put on her new underwear, new bra, new jeans, new long sleeve shirt. She reminded herself to finally use the hair dye she'd bought.

She touched Peter's cheek to make sure he was alive. He said, "When you get back, can you bring food?"

She had a million answers to that. Peter should go home, she thought. She loved him.

Anger wouldn't save her but she was willing to keep seeing if it would work.

She did bring food back from her debriefs.

She dyed her hair in the bathroom. She shouldn't let it continue, she thought, while her scalp itched. She should kick Peter out. She couldn't stay in this motel room indefinitely. She shouldn't even stay in it for the week she had planned.

She had no idea what to do with Peter in his current state. He had committed a horrifying act of violence. He now seemed to be in a depressive episode. She reviewed psychology texts she'd read in her head, she thought about things they took for granted on the other side.

Olivia said, "Why can't I do my cortexiphan tricks anymore?"

Peter roused himself and looked at her skeptically. "Have you tried?"

"Sort of," Olivia said. She gestured at the lamp on the table between their beds. It did not turn off. "What did Walter say?"

"When do you think I've talked to Walter about anything in the past few days?"

She looked at the two empty bottles lined up precisely on the floor by the bedside table. "At the hospital?"

"I only talked to Broyles," Peter mumbled. "I didn't even see Walter. You can call him, you know."

"Pass," Olivia said. She opened her first beer.

"The cortexiphan is essentially always present," Peter said. "From my research piecing together Walter's research. You relearned those pathways, activated yourself thanks to Jones. But then you did nothing with it until Jacksonville. Walter gave you more to help you find, basically, that muscle memory again. Which worked. But again, you did nothing with it. Until you passed over with help from the others. You said you took even more to get back here, so. Walter had to stabilize you from what he called an overdose."

"You did research on this?"

Peter said, "Yes, of course. My father experimented on you, I care about you. Both of my fathers, apparently." He sighed. "The cortexiphan isn't gone. It's written into your brain, basically. You've had two more re-applications. But it's like muscle memory, you have to use it. You use French three times a year, you're not going to be instantly fluent each time. Be glad, I spent some time at Massive Dynamic a month ago reviewing the Soviet experiments from the 70s and 80s. They didn't go the way of LSD, they were pursuing use of magnetic waves and sound. The idea was to unlock the children's potential to make perfect little soldiers. The kids were taken from their families."

"Should I even ask how Massive Dynamic had all that data?"

"They bought it," Peter said. He was looking at the ceiling. "William Bell and Nina were always looking for other people's experiments. Anyway, the Soviets couldn't get it to work in most of the kids, and the kids died or were sent back to their villages to starve and die."

"Why would they starve?"

"Sound waves made them deaf and magnetic waves left them with tremors. They couldn't fend for themselves, but they'd been removed from their parents at such a young age, most of the time, they had no one to take care of them. They'd all end in orphanages or the equivalent," Peter said. "That was all in the footnotes, I think I was the only who looked at those parts of the reports."

"What about the ones who didn't die?"

"Very few lived, the records were very vague about what happened. I don't know if it was to protect them or because someone wanted to sell the information for more than even Nina would pay," Peter said. "Are you worried about them?"

"I think I'm going to have nightmares about embittered Russian adults trying to make me deaf out of revenge, or for money, or just to survive," Olivia said. She pictured Nick Lane, Sally Clark and the others, dead now. Mostly dead. Poor Nick, she thought, a catch in her chest. She didn't remember them, she could bring up memory after memory of the other one, but her own childhood, people she'd loved, all gone.

Peter smiled weakly for a split second. "Glad I could help," he said. He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his chest. She watched him breathe.

He had bought pretty low quality boxer briefs. If she looked close enough she could practically see his dick through the cheap cotton. She looked away. She'd kissed him on the other side, once for real and again when she had hallucinated him, or made him up. She'd thought about having sex with him, more than once. He'd had sex with her, with the other Olivia. She tried to figure out how she felt about that. She decided on angry. Angry was working today.

She stared at the lamp and tried to turn it off and on. Like riding a bike, apparently. She couldn't make it work.

She fell asleep, she woke up. She looked at Peter on the other bed, turned on his side. She said, "Are you up?"

"Mostly," Peter said.

"Have you done this before?"

He twisted so he was looking at her. He looked haggard, drunk, and pale like a junkie. He said, "Be more specific."

"4 days in a hotel, never leaving except to buy alcohol, this," she said, gesturing at the room.

"Yes," he said. He turned away from her. She wondered when. She wondered if he'd nearly killed someone in a rage before. Nearly killed someone in whatever that had been. She wondered where in his history of cons and travel his previous days in hotels drinking had occurred. She wondered if the other her had slipped up on his history, the part Olivia knew and, she suspected, no one else did. He should have noticed. She had anger to hold on to, anger was who she was.

She talked to Broyles. She went to the bathroom in the middle of the debrief, looked at her brassy blonde hair. She went in a stall and cried. She'd done the same on the other side, once. She wasn't good anymore at using anger to hold onto herself. She wasn't just anger.

!

Someone knocked on the door. Peter stirred and looked over at her, his eyes dull. "I got it," Olivia said.

It was Astrid. She immediately said, "I'm sorry, Olivia, I'm sorry."

She should be, Olivia thought. She frowned. She couldn't just be angry, she needed to find words. Astrid grimaced at the silence. She said, "I went to your apartment and got more clothes. I never saw the other one wearing them, I promise." Astrid passed over a surprisingly nice leather bag. "Then I had to figure out where you were. I assume Peter's here, too, right?"

"This isn't mine," Olivia said.

"No, call it an apology bag," Astrid said.

"You don't have to," Olivia said and meant it. She forgave Astrid, just like that. She had too many people to be angry at. Astrid not seeing through that woman, it was Olivia's own fault. Peter should have known.

"I know, but I want to. I also brought some clothes for Peter. This is one of his own bags," Astrid said, smiling. "Do you think he's coming home anytime soon?"

"You should ask him," Olivia said. She looked over her shoulder. Peter had a pillow over his head. "At some point. Walter's doing better by himself, isn't he?"

Astrid sighed. "Mostly." Astrid hugged her suddenly. She said, "I really am sorry, Olivia. I should have known."

Olivia patted her back. "Yeah, but it's okay."

Astrid left and Olivia brought the bags into the room and turned on the light between the two beds. "Have you eaten at all?

Peter said, "No. We can order pizza again. Or you can get whatever you want and I'll get something."

"Peter," Olivia said. "How about you be the competent one for an hour or two?"

He laughed. She smiled for the first time that day. He sat up and pulled out his cell phone.

She sat on the bed and looked through her bag. She hung up the two suits. She hung up the nice shirts. She was overwhelmed. She stood at the closet, her hand on one of the blazers. It wasn't what she usually wore. It was exactly what she always wore. Who was supposed to be angry at right now? What was her anchor? She looked over at Peter. He had put his phone down on the side table and was thumbing through his wallet.

Peter wasn't anyone she wanted to depend on. He freaked her out. She sighed and sat back on the bed. The TV was playing the news from the BBC. She concentrated on the anchor's voice. She could suddenly see a girl of 13, deaf with uncontrollable shakes, in the corner of an orphanage, calling for home. It felt too vivid to be imagined. Had the Cortexiphan still in her system made that visible to her? She covered her eyes and laid down on the bed.

!

Peter was hungover and he didn't want to do anything that required effort or thought. Even the prospect of aspirin or more beer wasn't working to rouse him. He didn't know where Olivia was, but he was sure she would be back. She probably had a ton to do, getting briefed and back to work. Funny how Broyles hadn't called him nor had Astrid. He retrieved the other's laptop from under his bed, regretting even that movement. Three tries and he didn't get in. He put the other's laptop back. He opened his own. His perfunctory real estate search was getting nowhere since this was Boston, he had strict requirements, and being perfunctory was a bad idea.

He stared at the ceiling and imagined going back to live with Walter, having Walter around him constantly. Walter, who hadn't even come to visit him in his probably depressive episode. Walter couldn't know like Peter did that it usually only lasted a week, he had no excuse. It was the way Walter parented. Peter grabbed his phone and called Maddie. He told her what he needed in an apartment. He gave her his income that she already knew, what he could afford which she could calculate with her eyes closed, and to make sure he wasn't using any of Walter's Massive Dynamic income. She said, "I'll call you back in two hours."

He couldn't think of a thing to do for two hours. He closed his eyes and hoped for sleep or stupor.

Olivia's eyes were different. Peter cataloged differences. Something he should have been doing for a long time. He tried to recreate what he'd been thinking, before Olivia called and after. He'd worked through Walter's lie first. Once he knew the important truth, it was easy, it had been easy to put together the pieces of what Walter had done and how he'd lied. He'd realized his mother had known. He was even more to blame for her suicide than he'd originally assumed.

He stared at the ceiling. Then he'd gone to the other side and his father had lied to him. His father had manipulated him. The real aim of the weapon, the device, the machine was a mystery to Peter, but now that they had started building it, he was getting closer to the answer. It was destruction.

The TV was still on the news. It was probably good for Olivia to get caught up. He said, "I thought she was you."

Olivia looked at him, with those different eyes. Since she'd gotten back, she'd mostly been angry but under everything she was lost. Which was pretty understandable. Olivia said, "Why didn't you realize?" She sounded like she was drowning.

"I didn't realize because the thought just didn't occur to me. I saw you cross over with us. I don't constantly question the people around me to make sure they are the people I thought they were. In hindsight, I really should've been doing that most of my life. I know I was wrong, I'm not making any kind of excuse. I'm saying, I thought she was you. I wanted to be with you and you kissed me, and I was with you," he said. "I want to tell you if you want to know."

"You're not Walter, you have no excuse to be oblivious," Olivia said, a nasty streak in her mouth he certainly deserved.

"No, I'm not," he said.

"I don't want to know," Olivia said. She sat down on his bed. She said, "Peter. I have no one."

"No," he said. "I should have known. I was an idiot."

Olivia shook her head. "I don't know why I said that."

"I know why," Peter said. "You seem pretty lost."

"Thanks," she said. They were sitting across from each other, legs crossed, on the awful bedspread on the lumpy bed. Peter had taken a shower this morning, shaved. He would be fine in a day or two. Except if he really thought about when he'd assaulted the woman he'd had sex with four hours earlier. He would be fine in a day or two.

Olivia said, "Was the sex good?"

Peter said, "I thought so, but I've been thinking wrong for a few months, I guess."

"Thanks for the honest answer," she said.

"You sound angry," he said.

"Yes, Peter, this whole situation makes me angry. You make me angry."

"I'm glad you're okay," Peter said. "However okay you are."

She shook her head again and covered her face with her hands. "Shut up."

He did.

He stretched out on the bed while Olivia just sat. He thought he'd wait her out, talk to her when she was ready. He fell asleep instead. He woke up with a start, his hands twitching like he'd tried to kill someone in his sleep. Olivia was pressed against him, the quilt from her bed over both of them. He said, "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she muttered. "I do feel lost."

He rubbed her back. He had nothing to offer her.

She pressed even closer, and then she kissed him. Even the kiss felt different, he thought. He kissed her back. She pulled down his underwear and felt him up. He started getting hard and shifted so he was on top of her. He pushed her shirt up and cupped her breasts before he had his mouth on her. It felt nothing like the sex he'd had a week ago. He didn't think of her, just Olivia. He spread her legs and went down on her. It was like the first time, it was the first time. He concentrated on the way she reacted. She came around his fingers. He held his dick for a moment and then she sat up and pulled his hand off. She took him in her mouth, just the tip at first and then more. He said, "Olivia."

She was away from him, she laid on her back. She spread her legs wider. He got on top of her again and this time, guided himself inside her. She moaned as he first entered. "Fuck," she muttered and he stopped. "Come on," she said. He moved slowly then faster. He could do this for hours. He felt her heat. He kissed her and she panted, her back arching. "Peter," she said.

He came and closed his eyes. He felt her hand, bringing herself to another orgasm. He pulled out and laid on his back next to her. He watched Olivia get up and go to the bathroom. He should have asked her about birth control. He went into the bathroom after her. He looked very bad in the mirror. He ignored that thought and went back to the bed. Olivia was pretending to sleep already.

He remembered the first time with the other Olivia. Right then, all rushing back. It was a chore for her, a job she'd done, taking off her bra and letting him touch her. He hadn't even realized she didn't want him.

He should have killed her. Maybe when he woke up Olivia would be angry again and shoot him in the head.

!

Olivia woke up and disentangled herself from Peter. She took the other woman's laptop and sat on her bed. She tried a few passwords from her false memories. None of them worked. She rubbed the back of her neck. She couldn't feel the tattoo, but she imagined she could. She had an appointment in a week to start the laser removal. She had to pay for it. It was more money from her savings. There were false memories in her head. She tried to remember anything of John's stay in her head, but nothing came.

This was her new normal, wildly swinging emotions, no sense of herself.

Peter sat up. He said, "Hey."

She didn't answer. She'd used up all her bravado. She was naked, sitting on her own bed. She felt she lacked her armor. She was almost nearly out of anger. At least for now. Peter said, "Okay then."

"I've finished most of my debriefs," Olivia said. "Today is the first mandatory meeting with the department shrink."

"Does he know about the other universe? He's not going to spend the whole time having to be convinced, right?"

"He is a she and she has known for a while. That's what Broyles said. I haven't met her yet."

Peter said, "Are you going to look for a new place to live, really?"

Olivia frowned as she stood up and went to the closet. "I think so. I started looking at ads. It's a hard market.

"I am just throwing this out there, but I've found a new place. It's a 2 bedroom, 2 bath about a block from where Walter is -"

"We're not a couple, Peter," she said, looking over her shoulder. He must have been more productive when she was out of the hotel than she thought.

"I know," he said. "It has two separate bedrooms which would be two separate beds and two separate bathrooms. Also, I already have the place, paid first and last, moving men and new furniture come this weekend."

She interrupted again. "Have you told Walter?"

"Not yet," Peter said.

"Why are you moving out? Walter needs you, doesn't he?"

Peter laid back down. He said, "Walter will be fine."

"Why move out? I assumed you came here because you were," she tried to think of the right word. "You were in shock."

"Really? I figured you thought it was more of some sort of traumatized catatonia occasionally broken by drinking too much," he said.

She shrugged and pulled today's pant suit out of the closet. "So if it wasn't that, what was it?"

"It was absolutely that," Peter said. "But it's become obvious to me that part of that woman's job was to make sure Walter and I got along in support of the finding of the device on our side scheme. Even besides that, Walter and I never really dealt with the part where he kidnapped me and brainwashed me and probably did something to my memory. For the last month I'd been basically living away from him. I realized I didn't want to live with him again."

"So you're moving out without telling him," Olivia said. Peter was irritating her all over again.

"I said I hadn't told him yet. Look, I'm sure he will be less than thrilled that I'm moving out and worse, have suddenly remembered that he did these horrible things to me. Back to how this originally started, I'd planned to make the second room some kind of workroom but if you want to use it until you find a better place, you're more than welcome," Peter said.

Olivia looked around the mess of a hotel room. She thought about going back to her apartment. She said, "I'll bring it up to the shrink. If she still lets me go back to work, then it's not too crazy, I guess."

She had almost closed the bathroom door so she could shower when Peter said, "So last night was just a one-off?"

"I don't know, Peter."

"Okay then," he said. She closed the door. In the shower, she thought she couldn't envision doing it with him again. Last night she hadn't thought once about what Peter had done to that woman. This morning, she thought of it every time she saw his hands.

When she came out, she got dressed. She said, "We're just starting to piece together what she did. She was probably the source of lot of your cases."

"Yeah, not all, but enough," Peter said. "She planted the box with Newton, she made sure Newton died after she stole Newton's memory disk. She almost certainly placed the codes to get us interested in the the first people book and find the pieces of the machine." Peter laid back down on the bed, pulled up the covers. "It's weirder to me to think about the cases she worked that had nothing to do with her objective. A man tried to build a weather machine like it was General Hospital and she talked him down from killing himself. I guess she had to be you so we wouldn't notice."

"You've figured it out," Olivia said. She didn't know why it irritated her that he had made the same leaps she and Broyles had. "If only we could interrogate her."

"Sorry," Peter said. She looked at him but his face was towards the wall.

Olivia couldn't bring herself to think of telling Dr. Felton everything she was going through. She'd never seen much value in shrinks. She was unprepared for actually meeting Dr. Felton.

She wasn't someone Olivia knew from the other side, or previously from this side. She didn't start with the questions Olivia expected. She had a soothing voice. She had a slight accent Olivia couldn't place which ate at her.

Finally Olivia said, "I get it, you're from Chicago."

"Yes, I grew up in Shady Park," Dr. Felton.

"So did my father," Olivia said. "You sound like him a little."

Dr. Felton watched her, waiting.

Olivia said, "I actually don't remember my father that well, but the other Olivia, her father died when she was 14, not her mother. That's how I recognize the accent."

"Is that disconcerting to you?"

"It's awful," Olivia said. "I hate it. I'm angry all the time. Because she wasn't. She probably still isn't even after being choked and shot by the man she slept with."

"You have a lot to be angry about," Dr. Felton said.

"I agree," Olivia said. "How much more of this do we have to do?"

"We have a lot to do," Dr. Felton said. "It took us a half hour for you to say you're angry."

"You probably guessed before that," Olivia said.

"It's pretty apparent," Dr. Felton said. "Would you like to talk about your anger?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Running on anger is difficult for your body," Dr. Felton said. "You said you need it to remember who you are versus who she is. Did you start remembering yourself on the other side?"

"Yes," Olivia said. "I know there's more to me than anger. There's the violation from the experiments Walter did to me, the way I've reacted to my childhood."

"The way you reacted to your abuse," Dr. Felton said.

"Is that in my records?"

"No," Dr. Felton said. "I deduced."

"You should take my job," Olivia said. She was angry again. It was comforting.

"She's different from you in a number of ways," Dr. Felton said.

"Yes," Olivia said.

"Why do you think for you anger was the difference you chose to hold on to? Why not the differences between the universes or something else?"

"You think when I feel lost and confused, I should dwell on airplanes and readily available coffee?" Olivia lost her steam halfway through the sentence. Dr. Felton mentioned how hard anger was on her, she immediately felt aches and pains in her body. She felt like she'd had sex the night before, she felt like muscles had been tensed for months. "Would that work?"

"You could try," Dr. Felton said. "Why don't you? Just for the next 24 hours. And then it'll be time to meet with me again."

Olivia stood up. She said, "My, Peter, Peter Bishop, he has a new apartment he's moving into. He said I could have the other bedroom if I wanted, while I look for a new place to live. Do you think that's crazy?"

"It sounds like a good arrangement for you," Dr. Felton said. "We can talk about any negative things that happen or that you feel tomorrow."

!

A few hours after Olivia left, Peter felt alive enough to get up. He showered and put on clean clothes. He packed up everything he needed to hold on to and paid for the last six days without checking out. He left a note for Olivia and emailed her from his phone that he was back at Walter's until his apartment was ready.

Walter smiled at him like no time had passed and Peter had done nothing at all. "So nice to have you back, son."

Then Peter told him the good news.

"I don't understand why you won't stay here," Walter said.

Peter said, for the seemingly 700th time, "I need my own space, Walter. You can walk there in five minutes."

"What if I need you to help me?"

Peter said, again, "Five minute walk away. If you can't walk, my phone number is programmed on this cell. You just have to hit 1 and call."

"What if I fall down or I get locked in the bathroom?"

"Again, you mean. If you lock yourself in the bathroom again. Walter, I will come by to see you every single day if you don't come to see me first," Peter said. He was ten minutes into this discussion and he already felt more frustrated than when Walter first got out of St. Claire's.

"I could be locked in the bathroom for 23 hours, you mean. Or feebly trying to stand on my own for the same time," Walter said.

"Walter, you're not feeble. If you'll feel better to have one of those lifeline button necklaces, I'll get you one of those."

"I don't want you to leave," Walter said, his eyes wet.

"Walter, I wasn't home for longer than 45 minutes for a month and you were fine with it," Peter said.

"I thought you were with our Olivia, off making love and going to concerts," Walter said. "Do you think Olivia hates me for not noticing she was gone?"

"No, Walter, I think you're the only one she didn't expect to realize she was gone," Peter said. Walter's face fell and Peter felt guilty for hurting him.

"Are you and Olivia dating now? Is that why you're moving out?" Walter looked skeptical. "That doesn't sound like Olivia."

"Yes, she's not the type to start a relationship with some idiot so stupid he doesn't even realize he's fucking someone else. We aren't together. She doesn't want to live in her apartment. She's having a harder time finding a place than I did, so I offered her the other room. Which is the absolute least I could do since I'm the reason she doesn't want to stay there."

"Because of your relationship or because you nearly killed that awful woman? I heard Astrid and Agent Broyles talking about it," Walter said. He didn't look the least bit concerned that his son was capable of what Peter had done. Of course Walter thought nothing of it. He didn't find Peter's insane break notable or wrong. Walter said, "Do you think she was drugging you and that's why you did it? I'm sure it's worn off and you won't do anything to me."

"I wasn't drugged," Peter said. "I can't do this, Walter." He went to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"You're just leaving me here?"

Peter said, "You'll be fine." He left.

He hated himself for pulling out his phone and calling Astrid. He asked her just to check on Walter and she said, "Okay." He asked her if she'd been doing that all week and she said she had. He said goodbye because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He should have something to say to Astrid. He called Maddie again and got another hotel for the next night or two. He drove around until Maddie called back and he could check in. As soon as he got in, he opened his laptop and started catching up. He needed to look over everything from when she had been here and see what else he'd missed.

He wondered if the other Olivia even had General Hospital on her side, if she'd ever heard that story about the Ice Machine. She'd acted like she didn't know, but how was that surprising, who thought Olivia Dunham watched soap operas? Maybe she'd faked her lack of knowledge because the other one assumed Olivia wouldn't know.

He'd told that Olivia one night about all the things he'd read about the Soviet experiments, more than he'd recounted a few days earlier. Had he said that it was marginally better than what Walter had done to her? She hadn't said anything about the cortexiphan trials.

She'd been appalled. "How does anyone do that to children?" She'd said that while sleeping in someone else's t-shirt, having just had sex with her mark, pretending to be someone he loved.

!

"I know how much you want to say you told me so," Lincoln said, standing next to Charlie on the street. People went by, and Lincoln thought of the poetry his father had made him study. No one was speaking of Galileo in these rooms.

Lincoln's father had wanted Lincoln to speak well, to write well, to be a good person. He exhaled and rubbed his eyes.

Broyles had said it had been ever since her breakdown. Charlie said, "I don't want to say I told you so at all."

"It wasn't her, all along it wasn't her," Lincoln said. "How did they do that? How can they do that?"

"Broyles said the plan just happened, but they had her memories ready to implant in this other Olivia," Charlie said. "When did she do that?"

"How would I know? I was in the hospital," Lincoln said. He spat on the ground, something his father would have slapped him for. Lincoln wondered why he kept thinking of his dead father.

"When she came from her apartment to here, I think someone from the Secretary's office pulled her aside," Charlie said. "But they have to have those machines ready. Calibrated. I've only done it once. Before brain surgery."

"I can't even make the obvious joke, damn it," Lincoln said.

"Now we go back to work and we do our job," Charlie said.

Lincoln stared at him, trying to agree. Trying to find the voice in him. He was thinking of his father again. "When in doubt," his father had said, "look at the best person you know and do what they did. Or just the closest person to you who isn't an idiot or an asshole."

Lincoln would have said that was Broyles, but after today's revelation, it was now Charlie.

!

Olivia sat down next to the other Olivia's hospital bed. She was in tight restraints. Olivia thought about the ways she would try to get out of those. The woman looked too weak to try any of them. Olivia would have tried to look weak, too. They were the same.

"You failed," Olivia said. "I assume. I'm sure your mission wasn't supposed to end this way."

The other woman didn't react. Olivia said, "I should catch you up on what I did when I was you. But I bet they've had to admit you've been gone for months. To Charlie and Lincoln and Frank and your mother. Broyles always knew. You work with good people. You have such good people in your life. Is that why you'll take orders to fuck your boss's son?"

She thought that remark had landed, the other woman's mouth twitched. "I slept with Frank. When I thought I was you, and after. Because he's Frank. He's a good man. He's different in bed, from Peter. Did you ever lie there and compare them?"

Olivia stood up. She tried to think of something devastating to say as she left. Nothing came so she just left.

!

Walter demanded he come to breakfast. Peter slouched and picked at his french toast. Walter said, "I never, I have not told you my side."

"Your side of the being kidnapped story," Peter said. "I know your son died, Walter."

"He did," Walter said, teary even now. "You understand, we had a window to the other side. Belly and I had built it. Before that, back in the 70s, Belly had been tracking soft spots. I had as well, of course. Sometimes, in the natural course of events, in a completely natural happening, a soft spot would burp up something. All those toys and knick knacks we had in Florida, those were from that. Those burps."

"That didn't cause any damage," Peter said.

"No, it was like a membrane stretching open and snapping back, not like what I did. Belly and I found these things. Some were old, they'd come over years earlier. Soft spots probably started forming in the 18th century, if there weren't ones even earlier. Belly and I used to argue about this all the time. What is the fabric of these two universes that we are so close to this one, and don't hear from the other ones?" Peter twirled his fork. He was really excited about hearing another exegesis from Walter about physics. It definitely answered the question of how Walter had done these things to him and why Peter should forgive him.

"We realized things from our side must have popped over, too. But we both agreed, we thought, we couldn't build our door to get over. It would kill the world. But I saw you on the window, you were dying, and your father was distracted, he missed it, Peter. He missed the cure."

"I know," Peter said. "He was distracted by the Observer." His father had told him on the other side.

"Oh, you know. Oh. Well, I went over with the idea of having made the cure and just giving it to you. But Nina, she tried to stop me and I fell. It was all gone. I couldn't let you die again," Walter said, teary again. "I loved you. I love you. So I brought you back. And your mother came to the lab and I couldn't take you away again."

"I wasn't yours to do anything with," Peter said.

"I know," Walter said. "With our windows, we could see the beginning of it all. There was more burping over. The membranes didn't snap back as well or at all. I thought we have to train the children for the inevitable. We revived the cortexiphan trials. And then there was Olive."

"But you couldn't make that work because 7 year olds aren't the most effective tools," Peter said.

"No, it wasn't that. We found, she made her first trip to the other side when her stepfather was going to hit her. The best way to get her to travel was a combination of fear in that intimate setting. Your mother said it was beastly. And I did agree. So I -"

"Did nothing to save Olivia from the abuse she was suffering," Peter said.

"I did, I warned that man. I told him not to touch her. And he didn't," Walter said. "Until we left and stopped."

"Follow up was always your strength," Peter said, eyes narrowed. "You know what, Walter? You abused me. You chose to lie to me, to make my mother lie to me. Do you know that kind of effect that has children? On me?"

"I thought we had to to keep you safe," Walter said.

"Why? I didn't go to school. I didn't see other kids. Other kids would have just thought I was making it up, like the kid in 4th grade who told everyone he was really a wolf from Argentina. By the time people would have believed me, I would have known to keep my mouth shut. Who would I tell? The people you worked with. You didn't want any of them to know what you'd done," Peter said.

"I thought we would get you home in time," Walter said. "It would all be a dream to you."

"You had to have told me that everything I remembered, everyone I knew, that nothing had happened to me. You had to have, Walter," Peter said. He was so angry, he hadn't raised his voice once.

"I'm sorry," Walter said. "Can we call this a start? Please, Peter?"

Peter scratched his jaw and looked at the table. He wanted very much to say no, nothing could ever start, but he knew he never would. He said, "Yeah, of course, Walter. Just give me a day to move into my new place."

!

"Sorry you're stuck with the twin bed," Peter said.

"I have to buy a new bed," Olivia said. "So I will take what I can get. I need furniture and clothes and pots and pans."

She watched Peter unpack a box of books, putting them in either the living room bookshelf or in his bedroom. She tried to see if she could figure out how Peter decided which went where, but she didn't know the books well enough. She knew Peter, he was back to normal. What she perceived as normal, she thought. She said, "How do you have the money for all this? Do you need me to help with the rent?"

"I'm good," Peter said. "I'm paid not too badly by Homeland. I don't have hobbies or a pet so I don't burn through a lot of money. I have some savings from previous endeavors. Also, it turns out I'm the legal guardian of a multi-billionaire."

"Right, Walter owns Massive Dynamic now," Olivia said. "Or you do, legally."

Peter waved his hand. "All I do is make sure Walter doesn't spend his money on a strawberry milkshake factory or ordering too many supplies for his homegrown pot. Walter does the running the company part and Nina reigns him in. I just sign some of the checks. But I'm paid for it in addition to my salary."

"High school dropout con man now effectively runs the world's largest company," Olivia said.

Peter smiled at her. "I only get paid because the lawyers insisted. Granted, I hired the lawyers. But they seem like very nice people."

"I had no idea," Olivia said.

"What?" Peter said. Now he was frowning.

"When I met you, I had no idea," Olivia said. She thought about airplanes and coffee. She couldn't keep being angry, she decided to save it for special occasions. Thinking about airplanes made her sad. She realized airplanes depressed her. Or, she thought, underneath all the anger, she was incredibly sad. She covered her face with her hands.

Peter took two books into his bedroom. When he came out, he sat down next to her on the couch. "New couch smell," he said.

"It's nice," she said.

"I've slept on a lot of couches for the last two years," Peter said. "I consider myself an expert."

"Is it more comfortable than the twin?"

"It's a very comfortable bed," Peter said. He got up suddenly and reached behind a box. "Guess what I did this morning after my painful and horrifying breakfast with Walter?" He held up the laptop. "Finally cracked it. Walter, of all people, gave me the inspiration. She really loved U2," Peter said. He sat back down next to her. "This was the worst thing I ever read, and I read the Fountainhead." He sounded like he was trying to make a joke.

"What did she say?"

Peter shrugged. "She didn't have a section labeled 'shapeshifters who will help me escape' or 'the particulars of my evil plan,' but maybe we can figure that part out."

"You need to give this to the FBI," Olivia said. She took it from Peter. She started to read.

!

"Stop," Charlie said, mostly exasperated. He wasn't angry, that Lincoln was sure of.

Lincoln said, "You think you can read minds?"

"I can when it's yours," Charlie said. "You were thinking it's been fifteen days since Liv was lost on the other side, and no, not fifteen days, even longer because we were lied to by Broyles and the Secretary and she's been gone for months. Then you were thinking about the technology involved in convincing that other Olivia that she was ours because we haven't chewed that question over enough. Then you go back to fifteen days since that Olivia left and what happened to Liv and it's a fucking circle that goes nowhere."

"A circle doesn't go nowhere," Lincoln said.

"So poetic," Charlie said.

"It's not poetic, it's geometry," Lincoln said. "You didn't read my mind, that wasn't what I was thinking."

"I forgot to add the part where you wonder what they were doing to the other Olivia, how she escaped, why can't you go to the other side and get Liv back and what else?" Charlie smirked but it wasn't unkind. Charlie was as angry at everything as Lincoln. Charlie was just a better soldier.

Lincoln looked away. "We have to see if this is a breach."

Charlie looked around and inhaled. He exhaled and said, "It's not."

"Your nose over this?" Lincoln waved the meter around. "I know which I trust."

"I'm just that good," Charlie said. The meter agreed with Charlie.

Lincoln frowned and walked deeper into the rubble. There had been a building here once, a few years ago. Then it had collapsed when a tiny breach had opened in the main supporting column. Thanks to the readings, Fringe division had arrived just as the column had started to fold into itself slowly and in time to evacuate nearly everyone before the building collapsed. Nearly everyone, Lincoln thought, looking at the remaining debris. Three agents, fifteen civilians dead. The breach had closed by itself.

He didn't remember the names of agents. Broyles and Charlie probably did. He had been at Fringe just a few months then. He'd only known one of the agents. Not like now.

Charlie walked up behind him. "That's where the breach was last time. They've excavated everything now, just left this junk for some reason."

"They left more than this," Lincoln said. "The rest was taken for salvage."

"Fine," Charlie said. "Good for them. Picked up anything yet?"

Lincoln squinted while he looked past at the meter. "Look at that."

"At that heap in particular?" Charlie approached cautiously. He stopped when he saw the brief flash. "Is the breach open again?"

"No," Lincoln said. "Something else is going on here."

The two of them carefully removed the debris around where the flash had been. Bits of mortar. A crushed tablet that should have been scavenged for parts. Lincoln wondered why the people who did that sort of thing had missed this. Why not excavate this pile? He looked at the tablet again.

"Get back," Lincoln said, grabbing Charlie as he scrambled away. They both ran for two seconds when the bomb exploded.

Lincoln felt the white hot pain in his legs and back and thought of Liv again.

He opened his eyes in the hospital. Charlie was next to him. Neither of their injuries would require an overnight stay. Broyles walked in with another Fringe agent. Lincoln tried to remember this one's name, he had transferred to Chicago just as Lincoln had started. Charlie said, "Hey, John."

John Scott, Lincoln thought. For three weeks Lincoln had hated the man because Liv had looked at Scott's picture and said, "That one is super hot." He was a little embarrassed of himself for that one. Lincoln said, "Someone tried to blow us up, Sir."

"Yes," Broyles said. "Good thing they failed."

Charlie said, "Lincoln grabbed my butt to push me to safety."

Scott smiled at that. Lincoln said, "I found computer parts, they should have been stolen already. It was too easy to get out to have been there that long so I realized someone had built that pile to hide the bomb." If Liv had been there, she would have been rolling her eyes like he was showing off. He was off his rhythm. He was used to her teasing him, the way she challenged him. The other one, when she was thought she was Liv, she had done that, too. He couldn't tell them apart.

"Quick thinking," Scott said.

"Someone faked the signals we got that sent us out there, or tampered with the monitors," Lincoln said.

"Yeah, that's something we need to figure out," Scott said.

Charlie said, "Does someone hate all Fringe agents or just us?"

Scott nodded. Lincoln said, "You're here to investigate the two of us?"

"Standard procedure," Scott said.

"You know that, Agent Lee," Broyles said, sternly.

Lincoln knew but on top of Liv, of missing Liv and replacement Liv, he was livid anyway. Lincoln said, "Well, I can think of a few people who have a motive to silence the two of us."

Charlie gave him a look of caution but also smiled at him. Agent Scott said, "Well, who?"

Broyles said, "Agent Francis and Agent Lee are privy to a highly classified operation. I'll be investigating that aspect, Agent Lee." He glared at Lincoln like Broyles was adding himself to the list of potential killers. Lincoln was only a little cowed.

Scott shrugged slightly and then the two senior agents left. Charlie said, "John Scott's a good man, he'll be fair."

"I would have said the same about Broyles," Lincoln said.

"You wouldn't say it now?"

"I don't know," Lincoln said. "I guess I'll see how I feel when Liv gets back." If, he thought.

The next day he approached Astrid at her station. He said, "I guess you can't calculate the chances of Liv getting back."

"No," Astrid said. "I don't know any of the variables, the method of travel, the treatment she might expect from the other side." Astrid tapped her fingers to calm herself. She said, "I want her back."

"Me, too," Lincoln said.

"I calculated the list of your and Agent Francis's enemies this morning for Agent Scott," Astrid said.

Charlie stood next to Lincoln and said, "I'm sure mine is bigger."

Lincoln couldn't stop himself from smiling. Astrid said, "Yes, Agent Francis is older and has more time served with law enforcement and Fringe division, creating more enemies. Agent Lee has a very prominent father."

"Had," Lincoln said, casually.

"He is still your father even though he is deceased," Astrid said. "He is still prominent."

"But he can't be affected now by my death," Lincoln said.

"I factored that in," Astrid said. After a pause she said, "Agent Francis's list of possible enemies is still longer."

"Told ya," Charlie said. "Thank you, Astrid."

"You are welcome," she said.

They learned that the monitors had been tampered with, so they reviewed footage they had near the monitors. Charlie spotted the man first. Lincoln leaned in. "He's looking at something in his hand," Lincoln said.

"He doesn't know how to do it," Charlie said.

Astrid couldn't identify the man, though. "You can always find someone," Lincoln said.

Astrid said, "Therefore something must have been done with the footage to make it impossible for my identification process to work."

"Who could do that?" Charlie looked frustrated, Lincoln just felt a dull anger.

"The same people who could give someone instructions to tamper with the monitor," Lincoln said.

"Yes," Astrid said. "That is a logical answer."

They had to kick everything to Scott and Broyles. Nothing happened. Lincoln stopped himself from looking over his shoulder every moment. He didn't have any doubt that it was because of Liv. Someone wanted the two of them eliminated for knowing what had happened.

He couldn't sleep which was bad for a Fringe agent. He played with the pill he was supposed to take when the inevitable sleepless night caused by witnessing trauma came. This wasn't having to amber living citizens. This was the fear that the Secretary wanted him dead.

When Lincoln was 7, his parents had gone to a dinner party at the Bishop's house. He'd always gone before, but this time his mother stopped him. "There's no one to play with," she'd said, holding his arm too tight. The first incident, the beginning of the end, had happened three months before that.

He thought he could bear it if Liv was there. On that stupid note, he took his sleeping pill.

In the morning, Broyles summoned Lincoln and Charlie into his office. He told both of them to sit down. Broyles said, "You were not targeted because of your knowledge of the other side and Agent Dunham's replacement. I looked into it." Broyles glared at Lincoln in particular. It occurred to Lincoln that Broyles's anger was possibly about Broyles realizing his friend the Secretary was perfectly capable of ordering their death.

Broyles said, "Agent Scott and I believe this was an act of terror aimed at Fringe Division itself by radical anti-amber activists. We all know some of those groups have contacts and allies in this department and others. Agent Scott has been undercover with one of these groups in Chicago for the past three years. The Department has authorized an operation to get him into one of these cells here in New York City and discover the culprit."

"Sounds like fun," Charlie said, quietly.

"You're dismissed," Broyles said.

Lincoln said, "Any word on Liv?"

Broyles looked at him. Lincoln couldn't read the man at all. Anger, fear, compassion, it could have been all of that or none at all. Broyles said, "Our Agent Dunham was discovered and was injured. She is still alive and the Secretary believes she will be home by the end of the month."

"It's going to take him that long?" Lincoln felt Charlie's grip on his arm.

"It is," Broyles said. "Good enough for you, Agent?"

Lincoln nodded and let Charlie push him out of Broyles's office. Charlie invented a reason for the two of them to leave and they ended up sitting outside with squid on a stick. Charlie said, "I hate these things, why do I get them?"

"You believe the anti-amber activist story," Lincoln said. He loved squid on a stick which is why he forced Charlie to get them.

Charlie looked at the ground, grinding something into the pavement with his boot. He said, "Sure."

"Sure," Lincoln said.


	2. I could see them on the flipside

Not mine, no profit garnered. Title and all chapter titles from Kristin Hersh lyrics. Thanks so so much to the Jam for encouragement and beta. All mistakes mine. Please heed the warnings, both Peter and Olivia have reactions to the trauma they experience.

* * *

The news was less than surprising. The other Olivia had escaped back to her side. Broyles didn't sugarcoat anything, as he walked in front of Peter and Olivia. Peter wasn't the least bit surprised his father had shapeshifters on this side, he wasn't even surprised that one of them was working at Massive Dynamic.

"Dr. Falcon had the clearance to come in here," Olivia said. She was staring down at the thing and avoiding stepping in the pool of mercury around it.

"This is how we found Newton," Peter said. "So I think we can assume Falcon killed himself, if we can say that about a thing that isn't a person."

Broyles gave Peter a look, like he'd spoken out of turn.

Peter stared at the now empty hospital bed, all the restraints undone. He was thinking now about Mrs. Van Horn and her shouting to make it stop. She had handled the entire finding out the one you love is a replaced thing of evil much better than Peter had. By the time she knew, though, it was too late to take out her anger on the robot Senator. She probably had other ways of expressing her anger than Peter did.

He'd never come to the hospital, never visited. He knew Olivia had. He'd seen pictures of how bad that woman looked after his attack on her. He was convinced Olivia had left them in the hotel for him to see and feel bad about. Or test him to see if he even felt bad. He had felt bad. He felt bad that he assumed Olivia was trying to elicit a response or even thinking of him. He was still more ashamed that he'd never seen through that woman, that he had let her lead him around by his dick.

He wondered what that woman would say in her debrief. Maybe his father would be proud of Peter for having what amounted to a psychotic break. That thought made him feel sour and rotten.

Broyles said his name loudly. "Sorry," Peter said. "What were you saying?"

"Do you have a theory how they got her to the other side? We know she didn't have Olivia's abilities," Broyles said, quietly.

Peter said, "All that was here was those rocks you sent to Walter's lab. I assume they did some sort of mass exchange."

"Like on the bridge," Olivia said.

"They do have technology that lets them bring people back and forth," Peter said.

"We should put security on you, Peter," Broyles said.

Peter shrugged. "I don't think my father is quite ready to kidnap me just yet, but I promise to watch out."

"Just yet," Olivia said. "You think he has a plan to?"

"The Machine is keyed to me, to my DNA specifically. For some reason, he hasn't just tried to clone me and wants the real thing, so at this point his best plan to get me in the machine on his side is probably kidnapping me," Peter said. Oddly, Olivia's distaste at his blase tone was easier to read than whatever was going through Broyles's head.

Olivia said, "You've been thinking about this for a long time."

Peter looked at her, puzzled. She was scared for him, not repulsed. He said, "I'm his key. It's pretty easy to figure out the options when there are so few to choose from." He turned to Broyles. "I don't think security will help. When he gets that desperate, he'll just kill whomever is in the way."

"That doesn't mean we have to let him," Broyles said.

"I'll try to be careful," Peter said.

xxx

Lincoln found out Liv was home walking his mother to see the headstone at his father's grave. The air quality was particularly bad which made everything seem more dramatic and gray. His mother looked up at him and then walked on without him when she heard his cuff beep.

Lincoln pulled out his tablet to look at the information Broyles had sent. Liv was recuperating. Lincoln scanned the medical report, the part not encrypted. The Secretary's son had apparently nearly killed her. Lincoln was mad all over again. At the Secretary. The man sent Liv into an incredibly dangerous situation with almost no back up. Had the Secretary assumed that those people would take Liv's imposture lying down?

The level of violence described made Lincoln think that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. He thought about the last time he'd had a real apple, not just apple flavoring.

He watched his mother walking steadily over the fake grass. It was probably worse for her, remembering everything that had been lost. Most of it was hazy or vague for Lincoln.

He was being morbid. Liv was home. Liv was home. He called Charlie to make sure he knew before catching up with his mother.


	3. I lost a boy and now I look for him

Thank you for the follow and favorite! I hope you still like the story 87000 words from now. :)

* * *

"I don't have much time," the Observer said. Walter preferred to think of him as his Friend, but Peter and Olivia did like their names.

"I thought you had all the time," Walter said.

"There is a story that happened one time. A man who started the innovations that made us who we are."

"The progenitor of your people, of your mutation," Walter said. "I would love to meet that man! Or woman."

"Man," The Observer said. "A man came into the Emergency Room. After a car accident. The first doctor missed the seriousness of his injury. Two hours later another doctor noticed the man. Because of his smile. She had him rushed into surgery. She went to check on him a month later. They fell in love. Had a son. That son had a daughter. That daughter had a son. That man is the one you wanted to meet. But a month ago, the Emergency Room had two additional patients. Olivias."

"Did the man die?" Walter was pained at the thought.

"No. He had a different doctor for that first examination. He went straight into surgery. He met a different woman in physical therapy. They fell in love. They died 65 years later in their sleep. They had no children. The doctor met a woman, then a man, then a man. She fell in love many times. She also had no children. So now there is no man for you to meet." Walter's Friend looked at Walter, puzzled.

"Are you going away? What happens to Peter?"

"Nothing. Things that have happened have happened. But for you, it stops here. You will not see me again." Walter's Friend looked less puzzled. "It was a pleasure. Knowing you."

"Peter will be okay," Walter said. "Peter will be fine."

"I saved him then, that has always happened. You will find this new future pleasant," The Observer said.

"I will miss you," Walter said.

"I think I will miss you, too," The Observer said. Walter looked away when a dog barked and when he looked back, the Observer was gone.


	4. How did I love a breaking thing?

Warnings for mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, graphic violence, discussion of consent. This chapter also has Lincoln/OMC, mentions of Peter/OMC.

* * *

Days passed and she was more stable every day. Olivia hated it. She hated herself for adapting.

She woke up in her twin bed in her new apartment, she listened to Peter puttering about in the morning. She was getting used to how he lived. It was very different from the week in the motel. He had a hum of energy now. He woke up and he was awake.

Olivia's room was technically the master bedroom, her bathroom was attached. She barely had to leave her room.

Peter, she noticed, never walked around the apartment in his underwear. She bet he'd walked around her apartment in his underwear, relaxed, at home.

She thought about coffee. She went to work.

"How's the new digs?" Astrid smiled and poured her more coffee.

"Nice," Olivia said. "Have you moved since I was gone?"

"No," Astrid said.

"Did I miss anything in your life?"

Astrid looked sheepish. "No. Not at all. It was weird, when I think about it, you stopped asking me about my life for a few weeks. Of course it wasn't you, it was her."

"The Astrid on the other side is very different," Olivia said. "But it was a just a few weeks?"

"I think she sensed I was a little hurt or confused," Astrid said. "Okay, I was probably being a little passive-aggressive." She smiled.

"She needed to read the room," Olivia said.

"When I think about it," Astrid said. "And I think about it all the time, ever since you got back, I can think of a million examples like that. Olivia would seem off, and she'd fix it, she go back to normal."

Olivia sighed. "I guess it's part of the job, reading how people reacted to her, adjusting accordingly. I could do it."

Astrid said, "You didn't. We should have been more suspicious even if she was good at her job."

Sometimes she looked around, confused for a split second, looking for the screens, Astrid in her uniform and beret, Lincoln and Charlie calling to her. She would feel that confusion like a pebble in her shoe for the rest of the day.

The cases were different. No more breaches, no more amber, no investigating every kidnapping. No more sidearm and cargo pants. She put on her suit and buttoned up her shirt. She flashed her badge.

She stood next to Peter and asked someone for their show me then immediately corrected herself. Peter stared at her the rest of the day, another fun addition to work.

Her second day really back they had a case of a car that imploded into a gelatin like substance that stank like a three day old corpse. There's hadn't been anyone inside the car. She and Peter questioned the car's owner who obviously lied to them. Peter didn't even pretend to believe him.

"Why do they do that?" Astrid had the man's files open in front of her on her computer screen. Olivia thought how helpful a big screen was to share information instead huddling around Astrid.

"They think they can get away with it," Olivia said.

"They think if they say it out loud, it must have really happened," Walter said.

Peter pointed at the screen. "This one did it to protect his crazy aunt," Peter said as Astrid explored more. He said, "She was in one of your classes, Walter. Do you remember her?"

"No," Walter said, barely glancing at the screen.

Olivia and Astrid went through Walter's records for the relevant time period to see if the aunt had participated in any of Walter's experiments.

"She was subjected to an array of drugs and electrical stimuli to increase her IQ," Peter read out loud.

"I don't remember that experiment," Walter said. "I don't think it was successful."

"No, it wasn't. She lost IQ points and spent the next 20 years with an IQ that tested at 85," Astrid said.

"Then in 2008, she enrolls in another experiment -"

"She should have learned," Peter said.

"This one worked," Astrid said. "She tested at 120 when she finished. Our old friend Claude Penrose."

"We had a case," Olivia paused. "On the other side, a man whose IQ was increased exponentially. He was scary."

"Penrose wasn't smart enough for that," Walter said, dismissively.

"I hope so," Olivia said.

Their second interview with the car owner went much better. He admitted he'd been storing something for his aunt. She hadn't told him what it was. He did know where the aunt was.

They found the aunt in an apartment in Somerville. After Peter picked the lock, he hesitated and looked at Olivia. "I think this might be rigged," he said.

Peter was right. As soon as Olivia pushed the door open and ducked, something small flew past them and landed on the porch. Soon there was a spreading gelatinous section on the wood. Peter grabbed Olivia's hand and pulled her inside. "We don't want to go inside, we want to get away from the smelly blob," she said.

"I think only the door is rigged," Peter said. "Stay down here."

"No, I'm not," Olivia said.

The bomb at the door was the only trap they found. Peter tested each door and floor before her, like he didn't care. She wondered if he cared about himself at all. She was livid with him when they got to the top floor.

The aunt had died, it looked like she'd been beaten to death. She'd been dead before the car became in Peter's words, "extra putrid jello salad."

"I think she had a boyfriend," Peter said, looking at the closet.

"Odds are, he's the one who killed her," Olivia said.

"I know," Peter said, sadly. He didn't look at her.

They found the boyfriend two days later. The boyfriend had been in the same underground experiment Penrose had run. He'd come up with the putridity gelatin bomb. Luckily, Walter had found a way to counteract it so the boyfriend wasn't able to use it to stop them.

"Welcome home," Broyles said, looking around the warehouse and breathing through his mouth.

!

Dr. Felton started in with a review of Olivia's first two cases since she'd come back. Olivia found herself dwelling on Peter's recklessness much more than she had in her report to Broyles.

Dr. Felton said, "You've moved in with Peter."

Olivia nodded. Dr. Felton said, "How is that?"

"It's fine," Olivia said.

Dr. Felton waited, one of her favorite tactics. Olivia sat back. "Do you want more than fine?"

"You crossed universes to bring him home, your subconscious invented a version of him to keep you safe on the other side, he's obviously very important to you."

Olivia said, "We have separate rooms."

Dr. Felton said, "That's a little more detail than fine, so thank you. It seems when you talk about him, you are often furious that he slept with the other Olivia."

"Of course I am," Olivia said. "He should have known. He knew me better than anyone." She paused. "I feel ripped off."

"He was yours and she got him first?" Somehow Dr. Felton didn't make it sound petty and childish. "Now you're living with him," Dr. Felton said. "What do you do when you're angry with him and you're in your separate bedrooms?"

Olivia shrugged. "I snap at him sometimes. But he's still Peter. Sometimes he's so consumed with being sorry it's just irritating how ashamed he looks."

"Not to repeat myself, but you're living together. Do you ever take the opportunity to talk about these issues?"

"What is he going to say?" Olivia shifted forward.

"What do you want him to say? It sounds like I'm sorry wouldn't be enough."

Olivia said, "He's said that. More than once. I don't think there's anything he can say or do. Someday I'll be less angry, I guess."

Dr. Felton said, "Do you want to be less angry?"

"Yes," Olivia said. She sat back and looked at her lap. She slumped in her seat.

"Maybe if you shifted your perspective."

"On Peter?"

Dr. Felton said, "On what happened."

"I think I have perspective," Olivia said.

"I have to say, from my point of view, what happened is that someone deceived Peter to gain his consent."

"He wasn't raped," Olivia said, nearly rolling her eyes.

"Would you say that if Peter were a woman and the other Olivia were a man?"

Olivia said, "Yes." But she couldn't help thinking about it. "What are you saying, he's the victim here?"

"What value is there to you to think of him at fault?"

Olivia pressed her lips together. She said, "So I'm blaming the victim, I want to be miserable."

Dr. Felton said, "That's not what I said. You said you were angry with Peter and you didn't know how to make it stop. But you appear to want it to stop. You slept with him, you love him, you're living with him. So here's another perspective that might help you with that anger."

Olivia shook her head. "Did I say I slept with him or did you guess?"

"You told me," Dr. Felton said, smiling.

"I'm not doing that again," Olivia said. She did not sound convincing.

"She came here specifically to deceive Peter and she succeeded. Why does her success make you so angry with Peter?"

Olivia said, sighing, "He failed. His failure. Am I wrong to be angry?"

"I'm not saying there is anything wrong with your anger at Peter. You said you don't want to be angry."

Thankfully, Olivia's time was up.

!

Olivia drove with Broyles to another crime scene. It was probably a simple murder, but one of the witnesses swore they'd seen a giant man-snake slithering and crawling away. This was Fringe, she thought. This was their cases. She didn't need to worry about ambering anyone.

Olivia looked out the window and said, "She was a better shot than me, why didn't you notice? In the taffy factory with those men, she made the kind of shot no one could make. She did it twice. I've read the files, I know her abilities."

"When Newton kidnapped Dr. Bishop, you shot both of his men in the head with one shot each. One was driving at the time and you were running. I've seen you make extraordinary shots," Broyles said, unruffled.

"Not that extraordinary," Olivia said. She sighed. "There was nothing that made you suspicious?"

"You were an excellent agent, you looked like yourself, talked like yourself. You worked too much. The only thing that gave me pause was your insistence on keeping the bangs, but I assumed Bishop liked them," Broyles said.

"I wouldn't cut my hair for a man," Olivia said. She nearly smiled. "Okay."

!

Olivia and Peter figured out the other woman's code for the shapeshifters around the same time. She looked over at Peter at the same time he was counting off pages. She was a little taken aback that he was able to make the leap, to think like she did. She wondered what he thought of what the other one had written by him. By the end it was practically love letters. It embarrassed Olivia, like her love for Peter wasn't a real thing but some quirk of genetics. She loved Peter better than the other one did. She knew him better. Even if he didn't know her as well as he should have, she knew him better.

They knew Falcon and Newton were shapeshifters, giving them 2 out of 5.

Peter proposed they get the other 3 themselves. "You think they don't have someone in the FBI? They had a United States Senator and a high ranking doctor at Massive Dynamic. We let Broyles know, next thing we know, these three have vanished. They did this, Olivia. They were contacts of hers."

It was a lousy argument, Olivia knew. Broyles wouldn't leak it. She was ridiculous to be swayed by being told they could do something to someone who was to blame. Peter already had, maybe this time he wouldn't have to feel guilty because they weren't people.

She said yes.

She could admit she enjoyed the first one. It was satisfying to break into the house, see the man they were hunting, and shoot him in the middle of his forehead. She exhaled when the mercury started leaking out. She should have checked before, she thought.

Peter had already walked around her and was hacking at the man. Olivia thought, at the thing.

Peter was occupied at the lab in the morning so she took the second one by herself. This one was combative. By the time Olivia shot him, the thing was bleeding in three places and Olivia would have a few spectacular bruises. She cut out the disk herself.

She drove with Peter to shapeshifter number 3. Though he was back at work, he still looked awful. He wasn't sleeping well, he drank more than he ate. It was written on his face, easy to read for Olivia. Every night he'd fake a smile and say goodnight to her, every night she heard him waking and sleeping and waking again in his room.

She didn't sleep very well either. She saw the same thing in herself when she looked in a mirror. She found she did that even less than she had before. She thought it would be easier to look at herself when her bangs grew out.

She watched his fingers drumming on his thigh. She remembered him naked.

Olivia waited outside the shapeshifter's apartment. Peter had already broken in.

Folie a deux, she thought. That was what they were. Peter came out, his jaw red and mercury splatter on his jeans and sweatshirt. He held up the memory disk and smiled. She smiled back. "Now we tell Broyles," she said.

"Of course," he said.

Broyles was predictably livid. "I expect this kind of insanity from Dr. Bishop, not you and Peter. Especially not you, Dunham."

"I know, " she said. "Peter remembered that Walter said the shapeshifters looked like Bell's design, so he went into Bell's office at Massive Dynamic and found something he thinks can decode them."

"You are not addressing my point, Agent."

She said, "I know. I knew Peter took her laptop. I helped him figure out the code to find the three shapeshifters listed after Dr. Falcon helped her escape. I did all of that. I thought - "

"You actually thought? It seems more like the two of you just acted. You are an agent of Federal Bureau of Investigation, not a vigilante. You know that, too, right?" Broyles looked angrier than she'd ever seen him.

"I do," she said. "I do. I admit, I've been angry. Very angry."

"That is absolutely justified," Broyles said. "But we can not let it dictate our actions. The other side acts like this is a war, but we do not have to do that."

"You're right," she said. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Broyles sighed. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "Okay. You both should take a week off. I am ordering you to go to at least four more meetings with Dr. Felton. And I don't mean go and sit there. Actually listen, Dunham."

"I will," she said. "Thank you."

"I am cutting you some slack," Broyles said. "That stops after this."

!

Liv woke up in a real hospital, finally, already feeling much better. She tentatively whispered "hello?" and when her throat didn't hurt at that, she said it louder.

A doctor walked in smiling. "I'm glad you're awake, Agent Dunham. We've patched you up completely. You'll be ready to go back to to work in a few days."

She sat up in her bed and thought about her own home, her own bed.

First there were debriefs. They hooked her up to a machine, similar to the one they had used to take out her memories. She answered questions asked by a voice she didn't recognize, multiple times. She described everything she could remember about how the other side operated, who their enemies were. She was a professional, she had done her job.

She wondered if they could tell how she felt about Peter. She wished they'd tell her. Then she stopped worrying about it. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Her second night in the hospital, she dreamed. It was a mishmash of her memories. She drank coffee, she stared at the water coming down in her shower, she clutched at the sheets as Peter fucked her, a nurse smiled at her in the hospital. Liv woke up and rubbed at her face.

The next morning, finally, she got to speak to a person. Broyles came in and sat down next to her bed. "Good to see you, Agent Dunham."

"You too, sir." She smiled. "Do I get to come back to work?"

"Of course," Broyles said. "We've missed you."

"Not that much at first," she said.

Broyles gave her a considered look. She could never read him very well. He said, "Your alternate was a good agent. But she wasn't you."

"Now you're stuck with me," she said.

Broyles said, "We're happy to have you back."

She smiled and hoped it looked genuine. "Thank you, sir."

Her mother came in next. She hugged Liv, and cried. She was also the one to tell her Frank had left her and moved out. "I'm sorry," her mother said. "He was really upset about that woman, the other one, being you."

"I bet," Liv said. "I had nothing to do with that, you know?"

"I do know," her mother said. "I think he did, too. And he understood sometimes your work means extremely difficult jobs, but."

"But he slept with her," Liv said.

"You think?"

"I know," Liv said. "She told me."

Her mother frowned. "It was disturbing, finding out I had been talking to her and she wasn't you."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Liv said. "Her mother was dead, she was probably pretty happy to get to talk to you."

"It's all very," her mother shook her head. "I don't know what to think."

"I know," Liv said.

There was more hugging and her mother cried again.

Liv had missed her so much. When her mother finally stopped crying, Liv said, "On the other side, Rachel lived. She had a beautiful little girl."

"I don't want to know," her mother said.

"I didn't either," Liv said. "I never talked to her or Rachel."

Broyles came back the next day and gave her a tablet to catch up on the cases she'd missed and recent news. She said, "Thank you."

Finally, Lincoln visited. He said, "Your hair looks weird."

"Thanks," Liv said. "I guess I'll have to dye it back myself, you'd think the nurses would have done it for me."

"They've all been trained in cosmetology, of course," Lincoln said. He sat down on her bed. "Sorry about Frank."

Liv looked down at his hand on the sheet. She said, "It's okay."

"He really freaked out," Lincoln said.

"Can we keep talking about this? The more we talk about how my boyfriend left me, the better I feel," Liv said.

Lincoln smiled at her. "I can if you want."

She went home and looked around her apartment. Half of everything was gone. She looked through her clothes and wondered how many of them that stupid other woman had worn. At least no one had been shot and choked in her apartment.

She went to work cleaning things, trying to arrange what she had left to look homey. She made a list of things she absolutely needed to replace.

A day later, Liv was sitting on the couch, a bundle of nervous energy. She was going to call her mother and go shopping. Someone knocked on her door.

It was the Secretary's wife. "Mrs. Bishop," Liv said.

"I know this will seem odd, but I, uh, overheard my husband talking. You were on the other side with my son, weren't you?"

Liv said, "Yes. Do you want to come in?"

"Thank you," she said. Liv could see so much of Peter in her.

Liv said, "We didn't part on very good terms, Mrs. Bishop."

"You were undercover," Mrs. Bishop said.

"Yeah," Liv said. "What, what do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to hear what kind of person he is," Mrs. Bishop said. She sat down on the couch, almost wringing her hands. "I suppose this is a silly attempt."

"No, I get it," Liv said. "He missed you."

It was awkward for the first ten minutes. Then Liv realized she liked talking about Peter, not as an assignment, but someone she had really come to care about.

Mrs. Bishop stood up to leave just as someone else knocked on the door. She could sense Mrs. Bishop's hesitation. Liv opened the door a little. It was Lincoln, so she opened it all the way. "Maybe I'll see you later," Liv said, gesturing for Mrs. Bishop to head out. Mrs. Bishop put on sunglasses and a knit cap and left.

Lincoln said, "Was that..."

"Yes," Liv said, closing the door. "She wanted to talk about her son."

"Does she know how that all went down?" Lincoln frowned.

"She does, we kinda skimmed over it. Too busy talking about his sexual prowess," Liv said.

"Sounds like a fun conversation," Lincoln said. He said, "Did you want to talk about that?"

Liv shook her head. Then she said, "It was weird. He was so calm. He didn't look angry. He looked calm. He was choking me and I thought I would die. Then I didn't and he choked me again. He shot me and said 'Don't get up.' It was weird."

"Maybe he has more in common with his father than anyone thought," Lincoln said.

"He's a lot like both his fathers," Liv said. "Hey, where's Charlie? Is he avoiding me?"

"He is not," Lincoln said. "You're not going to believe this."

"Does it involve bugs?"

"Oh, yeah," Lincoln said, laughing already. She loved his laugh. She hadn't realized how much she enjoyed having Lincoln around until she didn't have him to tease for two months.

!

Dr. Felton said, "Did anyone tell you about Senator Van Horn?"

"He was a shapeshifter," Olivia said. "We're not sure how long."

"Did anyone tell you about how Dr. Bishop discovered where the memory disks are?"

"No, I guess not," Olivia said, irritation rising.

"They brought in the Senator's wife and had her speak to the Senator like he was her husband. Dr. Bishop theorized that part of becoming that person involved successfully mimicking the emotions the part required. The Senator's wife was able to get the Senator talking again. He recalled their plans for their upcoming anniversary."

"So what?"

"Two things: I've never heard anyone from your team express anger at Mrs. Van Horn for not realizing her husband had been replaced. The shapeshifters you describe as things apparently do have some sort of feelings. They respond to emotional appeals," Dr. Felton said.

"A shapeshifter is not some other person who did not have my whole history memorized, who didn't know basic -" Olivia stopped. "They're not people."

"No," Dr. Felton said. "You were disturbed by Peter's violence against people."

"I said it was a bad idea," Olivia said.

"Why did you do it then?"

"I wanted to," Olivia said.

"You knew it was a bad idea at the time?"

"Yes," Olivia said. "But I wanted to act. I wanted to do something."

"Why?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to answer this?"

Dr. Felton smiled. "Olivia, you trust your intuition and you have excellent instincts. You see patterns, you find ways to understand the people you track and investigate. In this case, your intuition told you it was a bad idea and you ignored it. I want you to understand why."

"I was wrong," Olivia said. "It worked out fine."

Dr. Felton just waited for her to continue. Olivia said, "It did. Neither of us got hurt, Peter hasn't killed anyone in the past few days and we have more information than we did before."

"You just said it was a bad idea," Dr. Felton said, kindly.

"It could have gone wrong, it didn't," Olivia said. She flexed her toes in her boots. "No one told me about Senator Van Horn. Was it disturbing?"

Dr. Felton said, "It sounds like it was, doesn't it?"

Olivia felt like she'd learned nothing at all. When she got home, Walter and Peter were ensconced in the part of the living room converted into Peter's work space. She thought again about buying screens to set it off more. Peter noticed her, Walter didn't. She went into her room, closing the door. She laid on her bed, hoping for a short nap.

When she woke up, it was dark outside. She'd slept 7 hours. She sighed and went to the kitchen so she ate something. Walter had apparently brought over a pot roast. She took it out of the refrigerator, put it on the counter. She looked at it. Olivia wondered how Walter had made it. She should ask Peter to leave notes on the food.

His door was open but the room was dark. She stood in the doorway to see if he had fallen asleep. He seemed to be asleep.

She sat on his bed and lightly touched his hair. She wished everything in their lives hadn't gone wrong. She wished she wasn't scared of him. She wished she didn't so automatically treat him like her partner.

He mumbled something and opened his eyes. She'd pulled her hand back at the first sound. He said, "Hi."

"Is the pot roast safe to eat?"

"No, not in the least. Walter left it here to eat himself tomorrow. I have no idea what he put in into it." Peter rolled from his side to his back. He said, "Are you hungry?"

"I should eat," she said.

He said, "Why don't we actually cook? I'd rather have leftovers tomorrow than have Walter shove his drug basted beef at me."

He immediately put the pot roast back in the refrigerator. Olivia made pasta and simple marinara sauce, Peter made garlic bread. He was in just those short boxer briefs, like when they first met and he answered the door that way. Two years ago, twenty years ago if she judged by how she felt.

She felt a little guilty that she kept picturing him naked. It occurred to her that he'd seen her naked over and over again and then she wasn't guilty at all. She wondered how Peter would describe what happened with Senator Van Horn. It had to have been Broyles who had been seeing Dr. Felton. He and Van Horn were friends. It must have been devastating. It could have been Astrid, as well, but Broyles seemed more likely.

She said, "I should have brought up us fucking to distract the FBI shrink today. I've mentioned it before, of course." She hadn't talked about it with Peter, though, not since it happened. She wondered why she even brought it up.

He looked at her with a faint smile. "Shrinks love bad decision sex to pick over." He looked down and said, "I'm sorry, I'll put on some clothes."

"I'm fine, Peter," she said.

He went back into his room and came out in jeans and a tee shirt as they sat down to eat.

!

"I knew Belly designed these monsters," Walter said.

Peter ignored him. He was trying to extract information from the various machines they used to shift. Walter said, "Are you still very mad at me?"

"When was I ever?" Peter wished, in an academic sort of sense, that he was dead. That would end this conversation forever. "We're over here working on this, Walter."

"But it isn't the same as when you lived with me, when we could have dinner together and play cards or you would do nice things for me," Walter said. "I supposed you've now decided I didn't deserve any of that."

"I didn't decide that at all," Peter said. "I know you tried." He pushed his chair back from the table. "But you didn't have to do it that way."

"So I am to understand your current source of anger with me is that we didn't tell you were from another universe?" Walter sounded like his alternate for a brief flash.

"It wasn't a we decision, Walter, I know you convinced my mother to do it," Peter said.

"How are you so sure?"

"I knew her," Peter said. "What I remember of her, what you haven't shocked out of my head, I knew her."

"I loved her," Walter said, pouting. "She was my wife."

Peter ran through a million things he wanted to say in response. Instead he said, "Back to work."

Walter started humming and Peter briefly looked past the shapeshifter tech to the schematics of the Machine. There were so many things Peter was working not to think about.

What he wanted to get from the disks was information. They needed to identify all the shapeshifters in Walternate's network, how long they'd been there, what damage they might have done. What damage they certainly had done. If the shapeshifters knew anything about Walternate's plans or the machine. They had only made progress on collating the information the shapeshifters they had killed had had, and how the shapeshifters worked.

All Peter really knew about the Machine was that when he got in it, he would likely die and kill a whole universe with him. He almost wished Walter was still averse to even working on the thing.

After Walter left and before Olivia got home, Peter wandered around his bedroom. He should have lunch or dinner. He should not have had the glasses of wine. He laid on his bed and thought about dying and how the machine would work if he were a corpse.

!

Olivia took a deep breath and sat down across from Astrid at the lab. Olivia said, "I've realized it's partly my fault people didn't recognize I'd been replaced. And I should change that."

"It's not your fault," Astrid said.

"I used to have friends outside this unit," Olivia said. "She does."

Astrid nodded. "Am I your first experiment interacting with humans?" She smiled to take away some of the sting.

Olivia said, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I meant, I like you, I wish we were closer."

"Me, too," Astrid said.

They stared at each other in silence for a long minute, until Astrid started laughing and Olivia joined in. "Okay," Astrid said. "I don't want to stray into painful territory, but I'd love to hear more about the other side. I know it's different, but it's different different, isn't it?"

"Very," Olivia said. "Let's see. Gay marriage, adoption, equal rights, it's all done and totally accepted. There are tons of churches but very few of them organize around those issues, and the ones that do are dismissed as out there. Birth control is an injection you can get whenever you want, for anyone, not just women. Abortion is a medical procedure, not a Supreme Court issue. Their medicine is about 70 years ahead of ours."

"And they're living with constant natural disasters," Astrid said. "That has to have some effect."

"A lot," Olivia said. "There are no climate change deniers, and climate change is even worse thanks to the holes in their universe. A lot of species have become extinct, like sheep."

"No wool?" Astrid frowned.

"They have a synthetic replacement, but yeah. There's a blight, just dead plants and lands up and down New England. It's started to expand westward. Even outside the US where the first breach was, there isn't a continent that hasn't had a wormhole, or the other climate changes from the universe basically decaying. Russia has been hit hard as well. Lincoln, one of the agents I worked with, he thought that their scientists were playing with things they shouldn't have." Olivia frowned. "It's a mindset. You just accept that everything will be gone by the time you get old."

"But they haven't given up," Astrid said. "I mean, they're still sending over agents here."

"Yeah, it's fatalistic, but not nihilistic," Olivia said. "Everyone knows the greatest minds are at work trying to fix things. They have accomplished some things. They've managed to turn around the blight in some places. They've reduced the impact of climate change in ways we'll never do."

"So what does the Fringe division do over there?"

"Investigate weird things, go to places where breaches are forming and try to stop the breaches. Amber the area and evacuate people as much as they can. They're kind of rock stars," Olivia said.

Astrid grinned. "Would I get free drinks?"

"Yes," Olivia said. "But I don't think you drink on the other side. The other you."

"She's very different," Astrid said. "She's on the autism spectrum?"

"I suspect, but they don't define things that way," Olivia said. "It seemed like a lot of conditions we think we have to fix, they just accommodate."

"That actually sounds nice," Astrid said. "But constant Big Brother."

"Yeah," Olivia said. "And no coffee. On the other hand, trips to the moon for a vacation."

"Oh my God," Astrid said. "Did you go? Did you remember going?"

"I wish," Olivia said.

"And a very different Walter," Astrid said. She looked at Olivia kindly.

"He was a bastard," Olivia said. "Is a bastard. I've seen flashes of him in Walter, he was probably more like that before St. Claire's."

"According to the things Walter and Peter have told me, Walter was pretty out there before St. Claire's. Even before his son died," Astrid said, quietly.

"Maybe the difference was drugs," Olivia said. "Maybe the Walter we have is the product of a lot of LSD."

"Where would we be if they'd both taken LSD?"

"Someplace worse," Olivia said.

!

Thursday, Peter insisted they pick up Thai on the way home, they ate out of boxes in front of the TV. Olivia said, "Have you ever been to Thailand?"

"More than once," Peter said. "Vacation, working, working at something less than legal."

"How is it back to work?"

"We were already back to work before we got benched," Peter said.

"I feel like we're really back now," Olivia said.

"Because something exploded in a mucus like substance that happened to be purple in shade?" Peter didn't smile but she thought she could hear it in his voice.

"That felt like home, sure," Olivia said. "I feel less like an alien in the lab. How are you and Walter?"

"Fine," Peter said. Peter looked around at something back in the kitchen. He said, "He doesn't seem to get that I'm angry about my lost memories and whatever he had to do to make me forget my own universe."

"It's called gaslighting," Olivia said. "It's a form of abuse, convincing someone to deny their own reality through repetition and other means. That's what it sounds like he did."

"Awesome," Peter said.

She had finished eating. She rubbed the back of her neck. She wondered if the other Olivia had gotten her tattoo back. The laser treatments hurt. She would be glad when it was done. She said, "Sometimes I am so angry. I think about shooting everyone I know in the head."

"Even Astrid?" Peter looked pained.

"Not Astrid. Or Broyles," she said.

"So just me and Walter," Peter said, like he didn't care.

"Sometimes," she said. Dr. Felton hadn't helped her that much, Olivia thought. Now she articulated her wildly swinging emotions to Peter, that was her accomplishment. She tried to think about coffee.

He reached past her and took her gun out of its holster. He said, "Don't do it in the head, you should make it painful." He held the gun pointed at his stomach, then his chest. She noticed the safety was off. "Like that," he said.

She grabbed the gun from him, took out the bullets and put both in her room. Her hands were shaking. She came back out and Peter was just sitting there, looking at her unconcerned. She said, "What the fuck was that?"

"Okay, you're upset," he said.

"How close were you to actually pulling the trigger there?"

"I wasn't," he said. "Not seriously."

"That's unacceptable," she said. "You can't, I can't be here if you're like this."

"You want to move out because of that?"

"No," she said. "No. But I think you should start seeing Dr. Felton. I mean, actually going, actually talking to her."

He narrowed his eyes. "Really? Over this?"

"Peter," she said. She was breathing too fast. "Do it, or I will make sure Broyles makes you do it."

He held up his hands. "Fine. I'm going to bed now. Make me the appointment." He went into his room and she sat on the couch, trying to calm down.

She woke up three different times during the night. Every time she went into Peter's room to make sure he was okay. The third time he opened his eyes. He said, "I didn't mean to scare you."

She didn't say anything. He said, "Clearly I did."

"Like I said, you have to go talk to someone. Dr. Felton already knows about everything."

"I said okay," he said. He closed his eyes.

"You said fine, not okay," she said.

!

Dr. Felton looked like a cozy Korean grandmother. She had a soft, soothing voice. Peter hated her at first sight.

She ran through a series of questions about his thoughts and sleeping habits and appetite. He lied about some of it, made it less messy, for fun. She wrote him three prescriptions and told him to take them starting immediately. Then she still wanted to talk more. She said, "I want you to promise me you will take this seriously and not spend your time figuring out how you can get out of it."

"You think that's something I would do," Peter said.

"I think you're doing it right now," Dr. Felton said.

Peter shrugged. "Okay, I promise."

"Honestly, how often do you think about killing yourself?"

"Honestly, I don't think about it at all," Peter said. "I don't plan it. I don't think today is the day to take that step."

Dr. Felton looked at him, expectantly. Peter said, "I think about, logically, rationally, if I were dead that would be something I possibly deserved and would be a giant fuck you to my father."

"You think you deserve it?"

"I've done many things wrong," he said.

"You should be punished," Dr. Felton said, clearly skeptical.

He remembered his promise. He said, "I acknowledge the statistics about children of parents who killed themselves."

"I don't see how that follows what I was asking you," Dr. Felton said.

"You're trying to get me to see what I said isn't that different from what you're asking, that thinking I would be better off dead is close enough to thinking about killing myself. That kind of thinking is a typical sign of depression. My mother was depressed, before it was really something that was ever acknowledged, so her depression was untreated. I made it worse by abandoning her. I blame myself for her suicide. There are numerous studies about the increased probability of suicide and suicide attempts by children who had parents who committed suicide."

"Peter, you promised me not five minutes ago," Dr. Felton said. "You are smart enough to know this can have value to you if you let it."

Peter stopped himself from glaring at her. "I don't think about killing myself. I don't try to harm myself."

"You don't think being reckless with your life, putting yourself in danger, is trying to harm yourself?"

He thought. "You're right, I hadn't considered that."

Dr. Felton said, "See? You can learn something here."

He smirked at her.

Peter knew better than to tell Walter anything about his Olivia mandated therapy or the anti-depressants he was prescribed. Walter regarded all talk therapy and drugs not mixed by him as the work of quacks. Maybe if Peter had had to spend time in St. Claire's he'd feel the same. It wasn't having any noticeable effect he could see, but the doctor said it took time. Peter nodded and acquiesced.

Mostly, he felt nothing. He felt nothing. It was a step up from feeling lost, bewildered, and ashamed or in shock. It was a step up from unable to get out of bed, drink yourself to death. But those always went away quick enough, they always had before.

He did get a little pleasure from conspicuously taking his three different pills right in front of Olivia and swallowing loudly. She just glared at him or smiled and said, "Good job," depending on how much coffee she had in her.

He also enjoyed calling her after every session to report that he'd really talked and really listened. Finally she said, "As your technical superior, I get reports, you know."

"Do you read them? That seems like a gross violation of my privacy," he said. "I didn't agree to that."

"I only look at them to see that you're going, I don't read them," she said. "I promise."

He hung up on her anyway. It was a less effective gesture than it could have been since he was on his way home and she was already there. He walked in the door and she immediately said, "I really don't read them."

"I believe you," he said. "Nice to know how far doctor patient privilege goes. At least when you're forced to go to an FBI shrink."

"Broyles gets reports on me," she said. "I'm pretty sure he does read them."

"Awesome," he said. He went straight to his room and closed the door. He had about 30 minutes of solitude until Olivia knocked on his door. She said, "Walter's here. He wants to watch TV with you."

"Joy," Peter said and went out into the living room. Walter was clearly high and giggling at everything. "Okay, Walter," Peter said. "What do you want to watch?"

"You choose," Walter said. "Peter, are you less angry at me or am I imagining things?"

"Absolutely," Peter said. "I have gotten less and less angry at you all week. Right, Olivia?"

She glared at him. "I'll be in my room. Nice to see you, Walter."

"I don't think she meant that," Walter said. "Can we watch Star Trek?"

"That's probably why she went into her room," Peter lied. "I'll get the DVDs. Next Gen or DS9?"

"I prefer Voyager," Walter said. His eyes were tracking something that wasn't there, so clearly pretty high.

"I prefer DS9 and it's my TV so I win," Peter said.

After he turned it on, he said to Walter, "There's a name for what you did to me."

"I know, Peter, kidnapping, being an awful father," Walter said, still smiling.

"Gaslighting," Peter said.

"That's a fantastic movie, can we watch it?"

Peter shook his head, smiling. "Sure," he said. It was On Demand on cable, so they sat for two hours, watching the black and white movie. Or Walter did. Walter woke Peter up as he was leaving, not intentionally.

!

Lincoln zoned out as much as he could on the elliptical machine in the gym at Fringe Division. He was navigating bumpy terrain on the computer, as fast as he could, balancing on suddenly round surfaces. His core and thighs would be aching after this. But he still swiped through the zine in his hands. Another new blight amelioration project having promising results. Another new air quality improvement project that had made 3 square miles in South Africa breathable again. It was all throwing starfish back in the ocean. Still Lincoln read about each one, thought about how these innovations would translate here in the worst of the decay.

He was not the typical Fringe field agent. Charlie and Broyles, ex-military, ex-FBI, they were typical. Liv, reckless and brave, she was equally typical. Everyone had tried to steer Lincoln to the safer science division. Or away from Fringe altogether. He'd never been very interested in the easy path.

He closed his eyes and tried to do the elliptical course without the visual cues. His pace slowed down, but he didn't fall on his ass. His legs were shivering from exertion.

Lincoln flipped the machine to cool down. He had a ludicrous date tonight with some 25 year old data analyst working for a medical equipment company. Lincoln's cousin Brad had set him up, to show the kid that he didn't have to date arrogant assholes. "Some of my best friends would say that about me," Lincoln had said.

"You are not as bad as the pricks he's been dating. You have a reason to be arrogant," Brad had said. The boy was the Brad's cousin, not on the side Lincoln was related to.

Lincoln was always going to say yes. He would have done more for this favor. Lincoln's cousin worked in the very secret division that monitored intelligence from the other side, from the shapeshifters. Right now the Secretary had shapeshifters monitoring his son, the other Walter Bishop, the Fringe division, and people working at a big company. Brad had said that they had to be careful. "They're machines but because they have to pretend to be human, you'd be amazed sometimes how attached they'll get to their identities."

Brad was going to call him the minute surveillance turned to something else, or as soon as they heard of some shift in the current status quo on the other side.

Lincoln got down off the elliptical and took a minute to regain his equilibrium.

Brad's cousin was named Arlo, he was a very attractive guy. Lincoln wished he wasn't hung up on Liv for a moment, this had the potential to be a good date with a possible future. But Lincoln had had little success turning off his longing for Liv. He tried to be humble even as Arlo kept talking about how impressive Fringe work was. "How did you end up there?"

Lincoln said, "I had other options after college, but I wanted to be on the front lines. The other positions are important, too, but being right there, putting knowledge to use, it's a good feeling." Most of the time, Lincoln added in his head. "But tell me more about your work." Good men listened and were interested in their date as a person. Lincoln was here to be an example.

He was a bad example who ended up taking Arlo home that night. He was a very attractive man. Lincoln wasn't made of virtue. He didn't make any promises and Arlo seemed okay with a one time thing. "Please tell your cousin I showed you a good time, but not in a sleazy way," Lincoln said.

Arlo smiled as he got dressed. "But if I say you were a sleaze and I want to date more of those, he'll fix me up with more hot Fringe agents." Arlo zipped up his pants. "Kidding, I'll be very positive."

"Thanks," Lincoln said. Between Arlo and the elliptical, he was sore everywhere. He hobbled into his clothes and walked slowly into the department.

"We get it," Charlie said. "You're a stud, your date last night was so good, you can barely walk."

"Exactly, that's exactly all of it," Lincoln said, grinning. "Charlie, you've seen your sister the same way after I visited her."

"I don't have a sister," Charlie said. "And if you start making those jokes about my mother, I will pound your bowlegged smug face into the ground."

For a split second he could have sworn Liv looked troubled at that. He'd never seen her react like that. He probably imagined it.

!

Peter leaned over to watch Astrid computer's screen. "That's creepy," Astrid said.

"I'm bored," he said. "You know, I think I've said that to you more than I've said it to anyone in my life besides my unfortunate 5th grade math teacher."

"Your father has probably made a mess you could clean up, since it's not technically my responsibility," Astrid said.

Peter scanned the lab. "Actually, no. He's probably making a mess now but I won't know until he gets back." Now, these days, Walter who lived alone went to the little candy shop himself. Peter said, "We should talk, catch up. Me, I was led around by my dick, had a little breakdown, doing slightly better, you?"

Astrid just looked at him. "When are we catching up from again?" He looked warmly at her. She said, "That face does not work on me. That last time we were really friends was before you found out Walter had kidnapped you."

He nodded. She wasn't wrong at all. "Here I am trying to repair things."

"Is this therapist ordered?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not at all," he said. He would never bring up this sort of personal failing to Dr. Felton. It was emphatically not her business.

"Then start better than 'I'm bored,'" Astrid said.

"Hi, Astrid, I've been an asshole who gets wrapped up in his own shit and talks to no one, but I'm trying to be better, how are you?" He tapped the desk. "I forgot a bribe, I was hoping my charm would be enough."

"It's not a bribe, it's a gift," Astrid said.

"What kind of gift?" He smiled again.

"Too late now," she said. "Okay, let's play one of those get to know you games."

"We know each other," he said. "But of course, that sounds like a great idea."

"I'll start, I'll name an age and you tell me one story from when you were that age and I'll tell you one from when I was that age," Astrid said.

"That sounds very adult summer camp," Peter said, standing up. "I'm game."

"Okay, I'll start. Um, 22," Astrid said. "When I was 22, hrm. At my college graduation, my dad came and my friends were worried and they made me worried. I had already come out to him, you understand, but this was me, and all my queer friends, all of whom were not thinking about the FBI or any kind of law enforcement job and therefore had tattoos and piercings."

"Did they have challenging in-your-face hair?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him. "Like what?"

"I had a mohawk once, for a month," Peter said.

"I want pictures," Astrid said.

"You and Interpol, not happening," Peter said. "So your dad was coming."

"My friends made me stress, because I wasn't worried, but they were. Because of course, my father who, like me, is black would not be comfortable around all of them. I don't know why I bought into it," Astrid said. "He baked for all of them. He was so excited to meet them. Didn't care about any of it, he was just happy it was my friends who I cared about."

"Did you have a girlfriend then?" He was picturing Astrid in college and realized he didn't know where she went to college. He used to know it, he needed to remember. Brown, she went to Brown.

"I had a girlfriend, we broke up a month before graduation," Astrid said. "He was having a tough time, didn't really figure he was trans until a few months later. Your turn."

"Something I remember from 22," Peter said. He went with the first thing that popped into his head. That was the point of Astrid's game after all. "I was in Central Peru and I had been trading with one of the indigenous groups, which some people would call doing business with them. Basically, I fixed their mechanical and electrical devices and showed them how to do it themselves and they let me harvest some plants."

"Plants Walter would like?" Astrid looked skeptical and amused.

"Well, not really. I was thinking from an actually medicinal standpoint, not Walter's idea of medicinal," Peter said. "So one day I realize hey, it's been a year since my mother died and 51 weeks since I intentionally imploded my pretty good relationship. The next morning I didn't want to get out of bed. Which, to stick to the facts, was a tent slash lean to. So the wise native people looked at me and said, 'You are ill.' I said, 'eh, last time it was over in a week.' One of the older men in the village made me get up and fix his car. He drove me into the tiny town and rented me a room. Because I was ill, and they didn't want anyone catching it."

"You can't catch depression," Astrid said.

"I've seen studies about that, especially in small, closed communities and there's some argument for it being possible. Anyway, old guy pays for me to spend a week in this room, get food delivered. I paid for cigarettes and booze because I was 22. What I actually remember was that someone across the street, the one street in town, someone was listening to a loop of every single Hole album, it was an endless loop for the entire week. I recognize the cheap irony involved in that, by the way. So I wake up, I eat a little, I stare at the ceiling, smoke, drink, go to sleep, repeat for six days and the whole time, what I hear is Hole. In Central Peru," Peter said. "Every time I hear those songs now, I have this craving for shitty cigarettes."

"I didn't realize you had had other, uh, long weekends," Astrid said.

"I've had five," Peter said. "None of them were that exciting or interesting."

"What about the pretty good relationship? Was she pretty?"

"He was male model handsome," Peter said. "I'm not even kidding. We lived together in Dublin, once or twice we'd go down to London and every time, a real legit modeling agency agent would stop him and ask him if he were interested."

"Were you jealous?" Astrid smirked.

"At 21? Imagine me with more of a fat face, pimples, and a series of bad haircuts," Peter said.

"What was male model's name?"

"He didn't do modeling, he was actually an IT guy for a bank," Peter said. "It was Jamie."

"I knew from our previous conversations that you've had sex with a man or two -"

"Which we will never discuss in front of Walter -"

"I know, I know, one story about William Bell and LSD and that guy they met from that band was more than enough for me," Astrid said. "I didn't know you had relationships."

"I haven't had a lot of relationships period, but he was in the top 5. The other 4 are all women," he said.

"So you would say you were -" She made a gesture like a question mark.

"I'm fine with bi," he said. "Is there a survey involved? Are you working on a linguistics paper?"

She laughed. "If I were, it wouldn't be on that. Your turn to pick a year."

"17," he said. He paused and thought. "I was home briefly and my mother and I played Scrabble every night for a week. She beat me every single time. It wasn't even close. She stomped on me. Frankly, she gloated."

"She was good with words," Astrid said.

"I know you'd have no idea from the way Walter talks, but she was brilliant," Peter said. "She took a first at Oxford in Classics, she got her Masters while Walter was teaching before he flipped out, and before I was born, she was halfway through her dissertation. She knew Latin and Greek," Peter said.

"Walter makes her sound like a wonderful woman, most of the time," Astrid said.

"But he never mentions she was smart as a whip. I think he forgets," Peter said. "Anyway. Your turn."

"When I was 17, I decided I could sew, which was not true, and I made myself a poncho which was hideous. It was made from tent fabric, and I am not kidding about this, I used fabric paint to do graffiti on it to make it look cool. It did not look cool. Also, I sewed on pockets, I think more than five pockets on the inside so I could be sneaky. I'd been playing a lot of fantasy games at that point," Astrid said.

"Pictures?"

Astrid smiled. "Interpol is not interested so I do have them." She opened her Facebook page and did a quick search. Peter was soon looking at a teenage Astrid in a truly hideous poncho.

"You look great," he said.

"You don't need to lie," Astrid said.

"I meant your hair," Peter said. He'd never seen her in any kind of braids.

"That was a nice look," Astrid said. "Hmm," she said. "24."

"24 was the year I faked my way into MIT as a PhD candidate," Peter said.

"How exactly did that work?"

"I forged a degree and transcripts from a school in Scotland and applied. I didn't think I would get in, but hey, what the hell, I did. It was fun. I got three papers published. In real publications that were peer-reviewed," he said. "I taught two undergrad classes, which I also enjoyed. Then I was tired of it. I dropped out after the new year and they figured out I had lied once I wasn't there to cover it up," Peter said.

"Did you ever date any of your students?"

Peter frowned. "God no, that shit is creepy. Okay, your turn."

Astrid said, "Sometimes you give people the impression your MIT stint was all about the women."

"I often let people underestimate me," Peter said.

Astrid nodded. "Don't know why you'd do that to me or Broyles. 24, okay. I was working for the Sheriff's department in Hartford, doing all their cyber crimes and computer research. I had the worst equipment. I rebuilt my work computer three times before it was powerful enough for my actual job."

"Did they make you wear a uniform? Was it ugly?"

"They did, and it was ugly. I heard a lot about my hair, which was not professional to them even though it looked exactly like it did our first year in Fringe," Astrid said. "I ignored all of it and they never pressed far enough for me to have to get a lawyer."

"You wanted to be in the FBI since you were 9, like Olivia?"

"No, not at all," Astrid said. "I went into law enforcement because they were hiring and then, you know, there were a lot of inspiring stories about women at the FBI."

"Okay, my turn. Last week," Peter said.

"Last week," Astrid smiled as she looked down.

"You met a woman -"

"Yes, I did," Astrid said. "I was in line at the grocery store and I could not stop humming part of the Scottsboro Boys-"

"Broadway musical you went to with Walter and wouldn't let me come, yes, I remember when you two went," Peter said.

"And a woman behind said, 'Is that from Scottsboro Boys?' I said yes and the rest is history," Astrid said.

"It's been a week, tell me the history," Peter said.

"We went out afterward, we went out Wednesday, we are going out tonight," Astrid said, knocking on the table.

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes," Astrid said. "Show me a picture of Jamie and I'll show a picture of her."

Peter considered. "Deal." He went into the back corner of the lab where he had hidden a small shoebox of personal possessions.

Astrid said, "I had no idea anything was in there. At all."

"That was the point," Peter said. He opened the shoe box and flipped through things he'd kept. He pulled out the picture Astrid wanted.

"OOooh, cheekbones. And tall, how tall is he?"

"6'4"," Peter said. He took the picture back and put it in the shoebox. He closed it and stashed back in his hiding place, making a mental note to move it the next day. He should take it home now that Walter wouldn't be picking through his stuff.

"Here's the girl," Astrid said, showing a picture on her phone.

"Pretty. Is she looking at you? She has a nice smile," Peter said.

"She was looking at food, she sent me this pic from the restaurant when I was late Wednesday," Astrid said. "But she does have a nice smile."

!

"The two of you make me feel so popular," Astrid said. Olivia had asked her to get coffee on the weekend.

"Is Peter asking you out for coffee? I thought I called that social activity," Olivia said, smiling.

"No, but he's also working very hard to be nice to me. I'm being friend seduced," she said.

"That sounds weird," Olivia said.

"You're taking me on friend dates," Astrid said.

"One friend date," Olivia said. "So far."

"Oooh, what's next? Dinner and a movie?" Astrid grinned.

"Maybe if you friend put out," Olivia said.

"What would that be? I'm not saying I'm not up for it," Astrid said.

"I'm not sure," Olivia said. "Maybe it's a good conversation?"

"Oh, man, I'll try. I hope I can make you friend come," Astrid said.

They were both laughing. Olivia said, "On a more serious note, how are you doing with all this disruption? Peter, me, Walter."

"You mean all my mostly sane friends becoming as nuts as my usual company?"

"Hey, I'm doing better than those two. At the very least better than Walter," Olivia said. It was so nice talking to Astrid. The relationship was 100% Olivia, nothing like the other side. Olivia wasn't angry at her. Nothing was fraught the way it was with Peter.

"I'll grant you that," Astrid said. "But don't worry, I'm good. It is a little weird, though, how you and Peter are both trying so hard to connect with people and all you can find is me."

"I didn't just settle on you," Olivia said. "I'm sorry if it feels that way."

"No, it doesn't feel that way," Astrid said. "I get it. The nature of this job, the way you do it, it's hard."

"The way I do it," Olivia said. "It's probably not the best way to do things."

"You said it," Astrid said. "But you know, what are you going to do?"

"Try to get more friend orgasms," Olivia said, deadpan.

!

Since only Lincoln, Charlie, Astrid and Broyles knew that the other Olivia had been there, it wasn't that awkward being back to work. Charlie was always good about helping Liv smooth over moments when she didn't 'remember' something she should have. Lincoln was horrible, the man could not keep a secret.

She still let the loser come over after work and take up space on her couch. "Tell me about the other side," Lincoln said.

"Coffee was cheap and everywhere," Liv said.

"That sounds nice," Lincoln said. "Did you meet my doppelganger?"

"Nope," Liv said. "I looked him up, though. He works for the FBI in Hartford. He wears glasses."

"So I'm the cool one," Lincoln said. "Did you look him up because you missed my face?"

"Not at all, I was just curious," Liv said. "I wanted to see if you were still just as ugly, frankly."

"Ha ha," Lincoln said. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here, and let you talk about your feelings. I assume it was weird to have to do those things."

"You hope," Liv said. "What does that say about me if it wasn't weird to have sex with someone while pretending to be someone else?"

"It doesn't say anything to me," Lincoln said.

"You're lying," Liv said. "Actually, it wasn't weird. The sex. It was something they hadn't done, so I didn't have to put on a persona. Once I made the decision to do it, I mean. That was weird. But the sex was not."

"That makes sense," Lincoln said. "Honestly, Liv, what were you going to do, turn your back on your entire universe and not do the job you were there to do?"

She shrugged. She said, "I bet he knew."

"Who knew?"

"The Secretary," she said. "I bet he knew when he sent me it might come to that. Isn't that creepy? That was weird to me. Someone doing that to their own son."

Lincoln nodded. "Do you know I knew him? The Secretary's son?"

"Really?"

"When I was 3 or 4, I guess. I don't really remember. Before he got sick. My dad knew his dad."

"You didn't really know him then," Liv said.

"My mom said we napped. So I'm telling you because I slept with him first," Lincoln said. Liv cracked up and Lincoln smiled at her.

!

Olivia was locking the door at the same time one of their neighbors came upstairs from getting their mail. "Hey," the woman said. Olivia clocked her like a suspect; East Asian, female, early 30s, 5'3", size 10.

Olivia said, "Hello."

"We never see you," the woman said. "Everybody has different schedules these days," she said, smiling. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about your father -"

"He's not my father," Olivia said. "He's Peter's father, my, my partner." Since they shared an apartment Olivia realized partner probably translated just like boyfriend. Which Peter was emphatically not.

"Sorry," the woman said. "It was just, sometimes when your partner's father comes here, once or twice he's knocked on our door to see if we know when you left or something."

"I'm sorry," Olivia said. "He shouldn't do that."

"It's fine," the woman said, smiling again. "He seems like a nice man, just, um, sometimes a little confused?"

"That's one way to put it," Olivia said.

"But he's okay living on his own," the woman said.

"Walter is absolutely okay," Olivia said. "Peter used to live with him and I think Walter wants to let Peter take care of everything and then complain ten minutes later we never let him do anything." She was surprised by the heat in her voice.

The woman said, "Sorry, I wasn't trying to judge or criticize."

"I overreacted," Olivia said. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure Walter doesn't bother you."

The woman insisted Walter was never a bother. Olivia didn't believe it.

When she got to the lab, Walter was hunched over a piece of equipment. Olivia never could figure out what that one did. Astrid was making coffee so Olivia sat down across from her. "I almost bit the head off my neighbor when she implied Walter wasn't ready to live by himself," Olivia said. "I think I feel defensive because I know it was right for Peter."

Astrid hmm'd and nodded her head to the side. Olivia said, "You disagree?"

"Not after you said you bit your neighbor's head off," Astrid said, smiling.

"I won't bite your head off," Olivia said.

"I don't know if it was right for Peter, but I understand why he thinks it is," Astrid said.

"You think Walter shouldn't be left alone?"

Astrid shrugged. "That is not my place to comment on."

"Really?" Olivia nearly laughed. "You take care of Walter as much as anyone, nearly as much as Peter. I think it's your place more than mine."

"I think Walter is fine on his own. He wouldn't be if Peter was farther away, but Walter's good."

Olivia said, "So your issue is with Peter moving out, not Walter being alone."

"It's not an issue," Astrid said. "Sometimes Peter likes to run away from his problems. We both know that. Maybe he's running as far as he can."

Olivia said, "Maybe. I think it's been good for him, though."

Astrid grinned. "You would know."

Olivia said, "New subject. Tell me about the girlfriend."

"Just someone I'm sort of seeing," Astrid said. "I feel stupid trying to fit someone into my life, like I have the time or energy."

"But you want to," Olivia said. "So it's not stupid."

"I know," Astrid said. She shrugged again. "Maybe I should say I feel like it's going to be futile in the end."

"You never know," Olivia said.

"And I have so many examples around me of people making it work," Astrid, smiling again.

"Yeah, but you're better at it than the rest of us," Olivia said.

"It?"

"Making friends, functioning like a normal person," Olivia said, sipping her coffee.

"I don't think Walter was ever good at that," Astrid said.

Then Walter summoned everyone to explain how the food truck had been leveled to an inch thin pancake of metal and person.

She got home after Peter, bringing in take out from her new favorite Indian place. Peter looked up from the couch and Jeopardy to say, "What did you say to Mary?"

"Who is Mary?" Olivia dumped her coat and badge and gun on the table.

"Our neighbor Mary. She was waiting for me when I got home to tell me she was very sorry if she'd upset my wife," Peter said, turning back to the TV.

"I said I was sorry," Olivia said. She sat next to him on the couch, eating her dinner straight out of the plastic container. "Did you say I wasn't your wife?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. "I told her you had cooties. You called me your partner, Olivia, it wasn't an out of nowhere assumption."

"If you were married, you'd wear a ring," Olivia grumbled.

Peter said, "Mary knows me well enough to know that, I'm sure. I have no idea if you're right."

"Really?" Olivia ate for a few minutes. She and Peter both said the right question that none of the contestants got. Then she said, "Mary said sometimes Walter knocks on her door when he comes over and we're not home."

"Fuck," Peter said lightly. "I'll talk to him about that."

"Then I got the impression she was saying Walter shouldn't be living alone," Olivia said.

"Maybe he shouldn't," Peter said. He failed to make that sound casual.

"I scared Mary, I can scare you, too," Olivia said.

"Thank you?"

"You're trying to rebuild your relationship with Walter now that you know the truth," Olivia said. "I don't think it would be good to add in living together, all the caretaking Walter makes you do. He's doing fine."

"He calls me or Astrid every night. He'll never be 100% okay," Peter said. "I deserted him."

"Moving a five minute walk away from him is not deserting him," Olivia said. Olivia closed her eyes, tired at the conversation. She cheated and drew on her double's memories of her father. The loving, surprisingly low-key way he'd pushed the cart around the grocery store the first time Olivia needed tampons. Except the grocery store and the cart and the tampons were all off. They were unfamiliar and wrong. But her dad, he was exactly like she would have expected.

Peter touched her face, pushing her hair behind her ear. He said, "Don't sleep on this couch, your bed is better."

"Got it," she said.

!

Dr. Felton ran through her standard questions she asked at every session she had with Peter. He was sleeping better, his appetite was unchanged, he didn't have dry mouth or headaches. He'd stopped lying in his answers after two weeks on the medication. He didn't consciously think about killing himself. As he'd already told Dr. Felton, he never had had thoughts about killing himself. He had never thought of the actions, he had thought about why it would be good if he were dead. He had thought about how easy it would be to die. But he wasn't buying razors or mixing chemicals in a bad way. She had already made it plain how little she thought of that distinction.

She asked him about his actions in recent cases. She frowned when he played down the fist fight he'd had with the possessed ex-prizefighter. "Thanks to however he managed to be possessed, he wasn't at his full speed," Peter said.

"There was no other way to subdue him," Dr. Felton said.

"Eventually Olivia shot him."

"That's why you have the shiner," Dr. Felton said. "Any other ways you're injured?"

"I have some scratches from when he threw me into a window which broke, but they're all healing quickly, no infection," Peter said. "It's not different from anything I would have done before all of this happened."

"Really? You wouldn't have let Olivia just shoot the man?"

Peter shrugged. "Maybe I would have."

She said, "How many times have you been in love?"

He looked at his favorite spot on the wall behind Dr. Felton. It was an abstract painting, Peter kept assigning new meaning to it each time. He said, "Five times. I assume you mean romantic love, not family or friends."

"How did those end?"

Today he thought the painting could be a thermal rendering of a horse in motion. He said, "In order: I left because it was getting too serious, I was dumped because something better came along, I cheated to kill the relationship and it worked, I left because I thought I was going to be killed, and Olivia."

Dr. Felton nodded. Peter said, "I know you ask these questions to guide me to some insight, can you just tell me what insight I should be shooting for here?"

Dr. Felton frowned. "Peter, you made a promise to me when we started this."

Peter looked back at the thermal horse painting. "Sorry. Should I write I will not try to game therapy on the wall 100 times?"

"I like my walls as they are," Dr. Felton said. "You love Olivia."

"Yes," he said.

"Does that make it more difficult to live with her?"

"No," he said. "I screwed up my chance with her, I appreciate we're still partners."

"You're not planning to woo her?" Dr. Felton at least seemed to be saying woo with some mocking.

"I'm not much of a woo-er," Peter said. "I don't have plans for Olivia."

"Do you still think you've done so much wrong that you deserve to die?"

Peter looked at the horse. He said, "Not as much. I guess the drugs are kicking in there."

"So you think that rational and logical thought, which is how you described it in your first session, is possibly the product of your trauma?"

"You don't want to say depression or PTSD?"

Dr. Felton gave him her best condescending smile. "I don't want to give you a specific diagnosis that you can use to undermine the work we are trying to do here."

"You have very little faith in me," Peter said.

"I don't trust you to be on your own side," Dr. Felton said.


	5. How'd I trust a band who'd leave me

Continuing warning for mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, general depression. Cheery cheery chapter ahead!

* * *

Lincoln, Charlie and Liv were conveniently all sitting around the same table in the break room when Broyles came in to report on what John Scott had discovered. "Oh, I remember him, he's hot," Liv said.

"And single," Charlie said. "Just like you." Charlie had a feral grin. Lincoln didn't find this mocking side of him attractive at all.

Broyles's glare silenced them both. "Agent Scott identified the cell that tried to have you both killed."

"I'm sure they would have wanted you dead if you'd been here," Lincoln said to Olivia.

"They would have," Broyles said. "They targeted all of you because of the ambering of the hotel in Long Island."

Lincoln said, "They can't have thought we wanted to do that."

"No one wanted to do that," Liv said. She looked alarmingly close to tears. That hotel hadn't been easy on anyone but it was only Liv's second use of amber. He'd stopped her from trying to pull out a child that could never have been saved.

"We were barely on the news," Charlie said. "How'd they know it was us three? How did they know how to tamper with the monitors? And everything else they pulled off?"

Lincoln said, "They have someone in the DOD."

"Yes," Broyles said. "Agent Scott was able to find some leads, and we're working on those."

"In the meantime, we sit here," Charlie said.

"Because you have leads on which of the people we work with want to kill us," Lincoln said. "Even though if they work with us they should very well know that none of us want to use the amber."

"Well, sure," Liv said, "Why let that get in the way?"

After Broyles left, Charlie said, "That wasn't useful information."

"He was giving you a progress report," Liv said.

"Yes, that's it exactly," Lincoln said.

They dropped the subject and went to work. At the end of the day, Liv followed Lincoln out. She said, "You're still upset about what Broyles said."

Lincoln said, "It's fine, Liv, drop it."

"No," Liv said. "What do you think happened?"

"I think it was anti-amber activists with good information," Lincoln said. "That's what I think happened."

"Except you don't think that, not in the slightest," Liv said, smiling.

"Yes, I do," Lincoln said. He glared at her until she took the hint. For a few moments it was a staring contest in the street but Liv caved first. There was a twist of something on her face. Lincoln said, "Whatever I think about whomever tried to kill us, it's not your fault."

"Of course," Liv said. "I know that."

!

Peter trailed behind Walter and Broyles. Olivia walked just behind him. Time to see the machine. Peter hadn't seen everything all assembled yet, he wondered if it was impressive. Massive Dynamic had done all the assembling, which Peter thought was less than optimal. He trusted Walter, but Nina was always another matter. Dr. Falcon had worked for her for who knows how long.

It was on the other end of the warehouse. Broyles and Walter and Nina were talking, Peter was barely listening. He watched their expressions. Concerned, interested. Worried. The machine actually gleamed. He wondered if someone had the job of polishing it, or dusting it. He walked closer to it. He wanted to see it up close.

He knew they weren't missing any pieces. Walternate might be missing pieces, it would make sense if he were. That would have been a good reason to get him and Walter to put the machine together on his side. He had an idle flash of Not Olivia laughing as he went down on her. He flushed in embarrassment. He hated her.

He heard Olivia saying, "Peter." He had almost reached the machine. His heart was beating fast. There was a kind of hum under his skin. He felt something of the hum in his head, his tongue. The thing was really made for him, it wanted him. As he got closer, the machine moved, panels shifting. It was arranging itself for him to get inside. "Not yet," he said. But it wouldn't hurt to touch it. He should test how this connection worked.

Someone was yelling at him. Peter reached out and placed his hand on the base. Everything around him flared white.

Peter opened his eyes. He was on the floor. His head hurt. His everything hurt, he thought like a toddler. A baby in snowsuit. There was something in his head now, he knew something. He closed his eyes to think about it more.

!

Olivia watched Peter fall. She squatted down beside him, took his pulse. More people were crowding around them. "He needs to go to the hospital," Walter said, loudly. Walter was beside her on the floor. He checked Peter's pulse and then opened Peter's eye. "Peter," he said.

Peter shook his head. Olivia was pretty sure he passed out again. Walter had worked himself into a real panic. Thankfully someone pushed both of them aside and started loading Peter on a gurney. Walter said, "He's bleeding from the nose and the ears. That isn't good." Walter hurried after Peter.

Broyles said to her, "What possessed him to do that?"

"The machine, I guess," Olivia said. "It's linked to him, right? It responded to him. He was mumbling to himself as he got closer. I didn't catch most of it. He said something about testing."

Broyles said, "I don't think the test was successful."

The two of them followed the ambulance to the hospital. By the time they got inside, Peter was conscious again. Olivia heard him saying, "I'm fine, I don't need any tests."

"You're getting the tests," Olivia said, catching up to the stretcher.

"Yes, you are," Walter said. "I am your father and I insist."

Peter closed his eyes. He said, "Fine."

A doctor came in. She took most of the history of what happened with added detail from Walter. Walter suggested four or five tests the woman should do immediately. She looked at Walter but said nothing. They hadn't mentioned the device so the incident sounded even more insane than it actually was. Peter had touched something and collapsed, that would make sense, Olivia thought. The doctor ignored Walter, pointedly, and said to Peter, "Are you on any medications?"

Peter's jaw clenched. The doctor said "Both of you leave." Olivia took Walter's arm and dragged him out.

Walter said, "I don't like that doctor. We should have done this at Massive Dynamic."

"I like her a lot," Olivia said.

"What is Peter taking that he doesn't want me to know?" Walter tugged at Olivia's arm. "Do you know?"

"It's none of your business, Walter," Olivia said.

She considered fielding Walter's questions and laments her price for forcing Peter into therapy.

The tests showed nothing specific. Walter dragged Peter to Massive Dynamic for the same tests with the same results.

She drove Peter home from New York City. He didn't say anything. When they got to the apartment he started straight for his room, but she grabbed his wrist. "Peter, can we talk?"

He turned to look at her. She said, "You look awful."

"Thanks," Peter said. "I just want to sleep now, okay?"

She let go of him.

!

Finally, Charlie said, "It's nice having you back."

"Nice to finally hear you say it," Liv said.

"You never did undercover work before, did you?"

"Yes, I was a naive waif and now I am so scarred," Liv said, rolling her eyes.

"You think you don't mean that," Charlie said. "I've done undercover, with a lot better preparation than you had."

"Yes, for you are Charlie, who used to be in the FBI and is a grizzled, ancient, old veteran."

"I'm actually not kidding," Charlie said. "But if you have to make jokes, I get it."

She rounded on him and leaned over his work station. "Look, I'm tired of everyone acting like there's something wrong with me because I did my job or I must be in some deep pain because I did my job."

"Who's everyone? The only ones who even know are your mother, me, Lincoln, Astrid, Broyles, the Secretary. Are you actually mad at me or do you feel judged by someone else?" Charlie glanced at Astrid and looked back at her.

"Right now, I'm mad at you specifically," Liv said. "Are you going to come back with some deep talk about maybe I'm feeling judged by myself?"

"Not now that you've stolen my line," Charlie said. "We all have to do things we don't like in a war, and we're in a war."

"Not against those people," Liv said, quietly. "99% of them have no idea."

"What about the 1%?"

"Even they don't hate us, except for the things that have already happened," Liv said. "They were all pretty upset about a shapeshifter killing FBI special agent Charlie Francis."

"That's very sweet of them," Charlie said. "Yet I don't hold them nearly killing Lincoln Lee against them."

"That was one woman," Liv said. "She wasn't sent over here by anyone, she came along so they could get Peter back."

"Okay, fine, everyone's forgiven," Charlie said. "Even you."

"Ha ha," Liv said.

She thought about it all day. It was irritating, the way Charlie got under her skin. She was so irritated, she even let Lincoln come over for a very late dinner. Lincoln said, "Who peed in your oatmeal?"

"No one," Liv said. "Why are you so urine obsessed?"

"Urine asking an interesting question," Lincoln said. "Plan to answer mine?"

"You are so funny," Liv said. "Did you know Mrs. Bishop has come by twice since you saw her? We're tea buddies."

"You and the Secretary's wife," Lincoln said. "She's a very nice woman."

"You sleep with her, too?"

"Ha ha," Lincoln said. "No, actually, but every time I've met her, she's been very kind. Do you two just talk about Peter? Haven't you exhausted that subject?"

"We have," Liv said. "Now we're just two gal pals. I don't think she has a lot of friends. Because of the Secretary, not because of her as a person."

"Of course not," Lincoln said. "Do you ever get the sense she doesn't agree with some of her husband's choices?"

"If I did, I wouldn't tell you. It's called friend code," Liv said.

"Does friend code cover why you're mad at Charlie?" Lincoln smirked. "See, I figured you out."

"Charlie thought I was being defensive because I hate myself or something," Liv said.

"I don't think you hate yourself, you're too vain for that," Lincoln said.

"I'm too vain? How long does your hair take to get ready?"

"I'm sorry, I should have said too confident," Lincoln said. "But you hold yourself to a very high standard. Maybe you think you failed."

"I don't think I failed," she said. "But I feel like I was used." She covered her mouth with her hand and looked around, away from Lincoln.

"I feel that way, too," Lincoln said. "I feel you were used."

"And for what?" She stood up and paced around her living room. "I know what he said. I know Newton, that rat bastard toaster, he said that side was seductive. But it wasn't seductive. It was just a world. People who didn't know who we were. And the one person who really was responsible? The other Walter Bishop? He's an addled man who cares more about candy than destruction. He's a nice man, in his way. He started all this and he only meant to save a little boy."

Lincoln said, "What he did, though, is pretty much guaranteed to kill our entire universe."

"But he's not a monster," Liv said. "None of them are. Why are we dealing with this situation this way? Why not ask them for help?"

"He kidnapped a child," Lincoln said. "Would you be so eager to deal with the man who did that to you?"

"Maybe if I realized the entire universe was at stake," Liv said. "He should know by now."

"Maybe," Lincoln said. "But we do not have control over that. There is nothing we can do."

"I know," Liv said. "But that upsets me, too."

"Sometimes there are things even you can't control," Lincoln said.

"I know that, I'm not idiot," Liv said. "But I really hate being used."

"Do you hate that you might have done something wrong while you were being used?"

"Maybe," Liv said. "But I don't feel guilty about it."

"Heavens, no," Lincoln said. "Now that we've psychoanalyzed you, can we finish eating or watch a movie or something?"

"Fine," Liv said. "Fine. We didn't psychoanalyze me, though."

"Not at all," Lincoln said. He took his plate out to the couch. "Also, who the hell is Newton?"

Liv told Lincoln about Newton and watched him carefully filing the information away. Liv was glad Lincoln was on her side, always. He would be a frightening opponent.

!

They had a case. Feral cats were behaving like they were controlled by an external source, and they were deadly. "Anyone who's had a pet cat knows that," Astrid said. "They don't need to be controlled to kill."

"But they are singularly focused," Walter said. He shuddered at the video of the cats acting in concert.

"This scares you," Peter said, looking at Walter. It was a gentle mocking tone Olivia remembered but felt like she hadn't heard in ages.

Walter said, "Yes, I find the feline species on the whole frightening. Single minded killers. We only think we have domesticated them."

"In this case," Olivia said, "they were never domesticated. It looks like someone just went around a feral cat colony and somehow made this pack respond to remote control."

"Who just goes around a feral cat colony? Maybe we should check the CCTV for people walking around in full body armor, no skin exposed," Peter said. "Oh, shit, did I just sign myself up for that duty?"

"No," Olivia said, smiling. "But it's not bad to investigate places where we know feral cats are around the site of the attacks."

Instead of wading into the cats as she half expected Peter to, he instead brought a tranquilizer gun. He handed it to her. "You're a better shot than me," Peter said.

"She was a better shot than me," Olivia said. The muscle memory had somehow been implanted in her. She had talked to Dr. Felton about how the violation of her mind was one of the worst things. It was worse than the other Olivia sleeping with Peter now. The more time she spent with Peter, the more she appreciated Dr. Felton's shift of perspective on what that whole affair had been.

She shook her head and focused. She stared down her target and shot. "Perfect hit," Peter said. "We need to get three or four, according to Walter. I talked him down from taking every single one we see."

Olivia shot three more cats and then she and Peter put the sleeping beasts in the cages. "Walter's going to kill them, isn't he?"

Peter nodded. "You're against animal experimentation? Is it because of that case?"

"No, I just, I feel like maybe we could do this without murdering these particular cats. I think I'm just against Walter's experiments," Olivia said.

"I'll try to get him not to," Peter said. "You're right, he doesn't need to. He has an unhealthy love of poking and prodding."

"He has an unhealthy disregard for life, human or animal," Olivia said.

"I think that's putting it too strongly," Peter said. "You're thinking of my actual father."

"Probably," Olivia said. "Sorry."

"I worked on a ranch, once. In Mali," Peter said.

"Why?" Olivia nearly smiled.

"I knew the son of the very rich man who owned it. His son offered me the job when I needed to lay low from a guy in Finland," Peter said.

"Because who looks for someone in Mali?" Olivia did smile. She wondered if Peter had been sleeping with the son. She kept waiting for him to admit to her that he was bi. He was open with Astrid about it and always had been. She'd overheard more than one of their conversations from her office. She hated the thought that maybe he thought she would judge him. She should just ask him, let him know she knew. Instead she said, "How long?"

"How long was I a ranch hand in Mali? 6 weeks. I mucked out stalls and milked cows and took care of their ponies and horses," Peter said. "I'm not averse to physical labor. I had some of my best ideas shoveling horse shit."

"Best ideas for what?"

"Gadgets," Peter said, with a grin.

Peter somehow convinced Walter not to dissect the cats and instead examine them, do cat exploratory surgery. He found a small implant in two of the cats. "Our villain probably shot these into the skin of the cats, with these tiny programmed pincers designed to take the implant straight to the spine."

Peter took over from there, taking apart the implant and working with Astrid to trace the components. "We'll need to create a blocker so that miscreant doesn't unleash these hell beasts on you when you come to arrest him," Walter said.

Peter said, "What are we arresting him for, by the way?"

"We let Broyles worry about that," Astrid said.

Olivia woke from a nightmare where Brandon had somehow pulled her back to the other side and tried to slow her breathing. She realized she could hear Brandon talking from the living room. She put on her robe. She found Peter, still in the same jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier, on his laptop talking to Brandon. Peter looked up at her with a smile and then his face fell. He said to Brandon, "Let's talk about this more in the morning." He closed his laptop. "Sorry," he said.

"It's fine, Peter," Olivia said. She went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

"No, I know how you react to Brandon," Peter said. "It would have been better to talk about mind controlled cats in my room."

"I said I'm fine," Olivia said. She drank her wine and sat down on the couch next to Peter. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because I'm awake," Peter said.

"Don't you have pills for that? That you're supposed to take?"

"I skipped tonight, Brandon and I were looking at this implant. I wasn't going to sleep anyway," Peter said.

"Good attitude," Olivia said. She went to her room and closed her eyes, trying to think of anything else. She replayed every phone call she'd had with Ella and Rachel since she'd gotten back. Twice a week phone calls, sometimes three times a week. She had a number to listen to again in her head and she did fall asleep around the third or so.

In the morning, they had identified their miscreant, as Walter put it. Olivia said, "Astrid, come with me."

Peter gave her a look and she said, "Astrid, you had a good 8 hours of sleep, right?"

Astrid said, "Unlike you two, yes. If we're going by amount of sleep, you should take Walter. I think he's sleeping right now."

Olivia and Peter both smiled, but Olivia still took Astrid with her to apprehend the bad guy.

The blocker Peter had cobbled together with Walter and Brandon's help worked perfectly.

"It turns out he's a former Russian researcher. He had a PhD but when he got here, he's had trouble finding work," Olivia told Broyles. "Not because of his resume but because he's a deeply unpleasant person."

Broyles nodded. "Excellent work, Agent," he said.

"So what are we arresting him for?"

"I'll think of something," Broyles said.

They had another case. Peter put on a pretty good show. Olivia sometimes forgot to watch out for him or worry about him which was a nice change.

Saturday, Olivia watched Peter putting on his shoes very slowly. "Where you going," she said.

"Walter," Peter said. "Grocery shopping." Peter kept stopping and staring somewhere to his left.

She said, "I'll do it. You stay home."

"No," Peter said. "It's my job."

"It's not," Olivia said. "I'll take him, he likes me."

"He won't be happy with me," Peter said. "That's a good, childish reason to let you go."

Walter was predictably unhappy with getting Olivia instead of Peter. "Is Peter angry at me? Do you think it's because of those drugs he's taking?"

"Walter, tell me what you want."

Walter started buzzing around the aisles. He said, "I have to admit without Peter to feed, I can be more adventurous about what I make to eat. Peter is very picky."

The contents of Walter's cart made Olivia think Peter wasn't really so picky. She really hoped the pop tarts and beef tongue weren't going on the same plate.

"You should take me home with you, Agent Dunham," Walter said, after their groceries were unpacked. "I want to see Peter."

Olivia told Walter to wait outside the door. When she went inside, Peter was asleep on the couch. She went back outside and told Walter. "I'll make sure he calls you when he gets up."

Walter protested but he did turn around and walk home. She went back inside. Peter woke up a few minutes later. She said, "How are you?"

"Better than I would have been, thank you." Peter turned on his back and rubbed his eyes. "I assume I need to call him."

Olivia nodded. Peter went into his room to make the call and came out six minutes later. "I would be better if I stopped taking whatever drugs I won't tell him I'm taking. So I hung up on him," Peter said.

"Good for you," Olivia said.

"It won't change anything," Peter said.

"What are you doing today?"

"I've been collating the information from the disks that we have and her reports and other clues, and I think there is an information point somewhere in New York City," Peter said.

"Can you narrow that down?"

"Yes," Peter said, holding up a device with a screen.

She said, "Do you want me to drive?"

"You don't have to come, I was going to take a train."

Olivia said, "Because tracking shapeshifters on your own is such a smart move."

"They won't kill me," Peter said.

"I'm still coming with you," Olivia said.

They drove in silence until the last hour. She said, "What are you thinking about? Or are you just zoning out?"

"I've been trying to reconstruct how Bell designed the shapeshifters. Walter and I have done some dissection and we have a few of their machines. I get part of it, but the information transfer after death is where I get hung up," he said. "Do you want to hear more?"

"Not at all," she said. "Though, they did have the means to store and transfer memories on the other side. The thing is, though, they don't do it very often. And only for some people. There are risks involved, I guess. Oddly enough, that wasn't one of the memories they implanted in me."

"Yeah, that's scary," Peter said.

They found a shop with a typewriter that sent messages from the other side. The man who owned it whined that it wasn't his fault, he shouldn't be blamed. They had promised him legs that worked.

Olivia called Broyles to take the shop owner away. By the time they were done and Peter had boxed up the typewriter it was 7:30 pm.

"I don't want to drive home," Olivia said.

"Hotel it is," Peter said. "We can choose from a number of places Massive Dynamics has standing reservations with. You want classy and upscale or post modern and hip?"

She went with hip, and they ended up at the Thompson LES. It was not the kind of place the FBI put up their agents. Peter said, "Sorry, I could only get the one room. I can sleep on the floor."

"That's silly. We can share the bed," Olivia said. "Why were we staying in that dump in Boston when you had access to places like this?"

"I let you pick the hotel," Peter said, opening the door to their room. "I don't like using Walter's resources for my mental breakdowns."

Olivia shrugged. "But when he contributed to them, it just seems fair."

Peter smiled and said, "Honestly, I wasn't really thinking too well at that point. It took me a few days to remember who to call to do my apartment hunting for me."

Peter went blank and started taking off his shirt. Olivia sat down on the bed. She said, "Can I ask you? Was your breakdown because of her or because of what you did?"

Peter went into the bathroom. He didn't shut the door. He didn't answer.

Olivia stripped down to a t-shirt and her underwear. She got under the luxurious covers. She said, "Sorry, never mind."

Peter came back in from the bathroom, and got in next to her. "You can just read those reports you get. Though I don't think we've actually covered the exact cause, so maybe you'll have to wait to get the answer."

"Don't you have an opinion?" she said.

Peter didn't say anything before he fell asleep. It was a big enough bed they didn't even touch.

She woke up at 3 am. Peter was out of the bed, staring at his laptop, sitting on one of the expensive chairs. "What are you doing?"

Peter looked up. "I woke up. I had an idea about the information transfer. You reminded me of the memories."

She saw the typewriter out, next to him. "Did you use that typewriter?"

"No," Peter said. "I was just looking at it. I was tempted to type HI DAD, but I resisted."

"Come back to bed," Olivia said.

She was exhausted. She was tired of herself. She got out of bed and took off her tee shirt and underwear so she was naked. "Peter," she said.

He looked up at her with his guarded sad face. He said, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't want you to either," she said. She took his laptop out of his hands and put it aside. She sat on her heels. She touched his muscled thighs, the soft hair under her hands. She pulled at his boxers until he finally lifted himself up so she could get them off. He was already half hard.

He said, "You sit here."

She pushed on his thighs when he tried to get up. "You don't want a blow job? Really?"

He moved forward and spread his legs a little.

"Hey," she said, smiling. She was overwhelmed for a moment with how much she loved him. She ignored it or denied it nearly every day since she got back.

Peter must have seen something on her face. He said, "What?"

She wasn't sure what to say. She said, "You're handsome."

"Okay," he said. "That's nice to know."

She held his gaze as she sucked on her fingers and thumb. Then she reached under him, circling with her wet fingers while she dragged her tongue over his balls. He inhaled sharply, his hand in her hair. She licked the shaft, up and down. She pushed a finger and then a second inside him. He was panting. He groaned. She took the tip in her mouth and then the rest, as much as she could manage. Peter was nearly silent, eyes squeezed shut, fucking himself on her fingers, thrusting a little into her mouth. He tugged at her hair. He said, "I'm going to-"

She sucked him in even as he came. He was melted into the chair and smiling at her. She got up and washed her hands, swished some mouthwash around in her mouth. She went back into the bedroom. Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed. He held his hands out to her. "Your turn," he said.

"Better be," she said, sitting on his lap. He lifted her by the waist and put her down on her back on the bed. He was on top of her, his hands and mouth somehow everywhere. She loved his solid weight on her, skin against skin. He was between her legs, on her breasts, kissing her. She was right on the edge, her legs trembling.

He said, "How do you want to do this?"

She reached down and held his dick, he was hard. She kissed him. She turned so her ass was in air.

"Doggy style it is," he said. "I know this is really late to ask but um, birth control "

"I'm fine," she said. "Don't worry. You should have asked that last time, too."

"Okay," he said. She was so wet and wide open, she was sure he could just slide right in, but he didn't. She breathed and relaxed and adjusted to him. She hadn't expected his big thick dick, not in any of her fantasies. She liked it. As soon as he softly circled her clit, she came. He fucked her through it, and she was trembling and tight around him. She even came again before he finally did and they were both worn down to boneless bliss in a heap on the bed.

After they'd cleaned up, they got back under the covers. This time Peter wrapped his arm around her from behind.

When she woke up, Peter was once again not in the bed. He was pacing naked in front of the bed. He walked over to where her pants were on the floor and picked them up, telling whoever was on the other line what size they were. He said, "Thanks, Maddie," and hung up.

"What woman are you telling my size?"

"Maddie is the financial administrator for Walter's estate," Peter said.

"So she gets wake up calls from you when you want clothes?"

"I didn't wake her up, and yes, clothes and prescription drugs," Peter said. "The lawyers I hired, hired her. She's very good at her job. Apparently Walter and I are some of her least demanding clients. Probably because no one's told Walter that Maddie exists and we're keeping it that way."

"Hotel rooms and new clothes delivered on a Sunday morning, you're living your dream."

He said, "Not my dream, really."

"All those scams and cons and you didn't want this kind of wealth? I'm not criticizing."

"I never really wanted to be wealthy," Peter said. "That wasn't the end goal."

She found the room service menu. She was starving. She said, "What was the goal?"

"Putting one over on everyone, making people with money suffer, moving quickly away from everything," he said. "I didn't have a vision board."

"That's amusing to picture," Olivia said.

"I try not to abuse Walter's money," Peter said. "I'm being particularly indulgent this trip."

"I know you're not, Peter," she said. "Right now I'm starving."

30 minutes after room service brought up their breakfast, a young woman came with their clothes. Thankfully, they were both wearing their fluffy robes from the hotel. "I'm really sorry," Peter said, taking the shopping bag and garment bag.

"This is my job," the young lady said. "I've delivered much more surprising things to people on a Sunday morning."

"I don't want to know," Peter said.

The young woman nodded. "I'm still sorry," Peter said. "And thank you."

Twenty minutes after that, when Olivia got out of the shower, Peter was still on the same call with Walter that he'd been on since the young woman left. She gathered that Peter and Walter were speculating on how the typewriter worked. She heard the phrase quantum entangled and part of her just checked out. She was profoundly tired of hearing about the lines and tangles between their two universes.

She got dressed in her new clothes. She wondered if she should thank Walter or Peter for the new $200 jeans that fit perfectly, or the underwear that cost ten times what she usually paid. She wasn't much of a clothes horse so she was surprised at how luxurious these clothes felt. She turned on the TV and watched the news from the BBC.

She must have zoned out because when Peter sat down next to her, he was showered and dressed. She said, "Don't sit there. I think that's where we were-"

"Got it," Peter said. He folded over the covers and then sat down. "Walter will be at Massive Dynamic in about four hours, so we should be there, too."

"We should have gotten two days of clothes. I have to insist we keep this room."

"I'll take care of it. But we should probably just have a bag ready," he said.

"I get new jeans out of doing it this way," she said, laughing. "I'm still replacing my wardrobe, you know."

"We're technically here for work," Peter said. "It's probably deductible somehow."

Walter and Peter were both entranced with the typewriter.

When Brandon came in to coo at it as well, Olivia left the room, her chest clenched.

Astrid followed her. Olivia said, "I don't have a destination in mind. I just need some air."

"I figured," Astrid said. "Did you'really stay at a luxury hotel last night?"

"The Thompson LES," Olivia said. "It's really nice. Peter already called and got us a second night. You should have him check if there are rooms for you."

Astrid frowned. "Walter is planning to sleep in some back room upstairs."

"He can't make you stay there with him," Olivia said.

"No, I am definitely asking Peter. Walter never offered me anything good."

Olivia said, "I get the impression from Peter he doesn't let Walter know he has luxury hotel rooms to offer."

"A decision I completely support," Astrid said. "That's gonna make getting the Broadway tickets Walter wants that much easier."

"I bet Peter would love to go with him, you don't have to," Olivia said.

"Oh, I'm picking the play, Peter isn't stealing that from me," Astrid said. She looked at Olivia and gripped her arm, briefly. "We've already seen Scottsboro Boys so I might let Walter pick this time. How about I go back in there and ask Peter about this stuff."

"Thank you," Olivia said. She went into a conference room. She looked down at her phone. Peter had just texted her: extended hotel stay tonight and tomorrow night. Walter wants to see a show.

She texted back ok. She opened her laptop and started checking on the security video they'd been able to find around the typewriter shop. She'd already found the other Olivia going there soon after she'd arrived on this side.

They spent another night at the Thompson. When they got into their hotel room, Olivia saw the bags. "More clothes?" She knew she was grinning.

"You're so excited about letting Walter's money pay for your new wardrobe." Peter unpacked his toiletries, pill bottles, and clothes. He sat back on the bed and turned on the TV.

Olivia stripped to her new tank top which was the softest cotton she'd ever felt and her underwear. She sat next to Peter. "What are we watching?"

"I have no idea," Peter said. "It's just so big." He smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes but she rested her hand high up on his thigh, her pinky almost brushing his balls. He said, "I'm taking off these jeans."

"Good idea," she said.

A half hour later, her tanktop was up in her armpits. Her underwear was down around her thighs. Peter's mouth was on her breasts, her jaw, her lips. She ground down on his fingers inside her. Her wet hand gripped his dick. He said, "I really want to -" and pulled her closer and up.

"Me, too," she said. She maneuvered out of her underwear and moved so she was ready to lower herself onto him. It was teasingly slow, again, her body adjusting, opening. She was going to feel the last two days in the morning. Differently than she felt it now, because now was wonderful. Raw, open and wonderful. She mumbled "wonderful," once against his chest.

He came first and then she gasped for breath and came as well.

She said, "We should do this all the time."

"Are you sure?"

It seemed like such a weighty question. Weighted with who they would be outside this expensive hotel. She had spent a long time agonizing. She was done. She nodded and kissed him. They fell asleep.

!

Peter watched Olivia sleep. She seemed happy, she had been happy to be with him. He hadn't thought about what it was like with the other one. Now that he knew, he could tell them apart. Why hadn't he thought about it before? Why hadn't the idea of it occurred to him? Peter had known there were doubles, he'd seen how identical the other Olivia was. He just hadn't thought about it. He'd been the replacement, the original alternate over on this side. He closed his eyes. It was an unbelievably unproductive train of thought.

He loved Olivia. He didn't completely understand why she wanted to be with him again. He figured the kind of feeling she'd had when she'd said he belonged with her wasn't a feeling she'd retained.

He trusted her, which was wrong. He had the thought and blanched. Olivia was the most dependable person he knew. He could tell she was his Olivia. She made her way home through sheer force of will.

He was the one who couldn't be trusted. On that lovely thought, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Olivia was smiling at him. "Hey," he said.

She kissed his cheek and got up out of bed. He said, "Tomorrow morning we are definitely going home."

"Do we have to?" He could see her bangs grown out a little and now reached her ears. She tucked them back like she was embarrassed he'd seen them.

"I like home," he said. "Maybe if you bought a new bed, you wouldn't be so eager to stay here."

"It's not the bed," Olivia said. She ran her hand over the bedspread. "It's not just the bed."

"It's the very expensive bedding," Peter said.

"Someone does the cleaning, new clothes magically appear," Olivia said.

"We're not moving into the Thompson LES," Peter said.

"You're mean," Olivia said. She went into the bathroom.

He rubbed his dick once or twice, thinking about last night. Then he thought about watching Olivia sleep and didn't want to move. He threw off the covers and went into the bathroom.

"Hey," he said.

"Boy, I hope that's you, Peter," Olivia said from the shower.

He almost made a joke but he didn't. He said, "Of course it's me."

"Do you want to come in?"

"You're very chipper in the morning," he said.

"I am this morning," Olivia said. "Are you coming in?"

He did. When she was looking at him, he could smile.

Spending the day with his father and Brandon was tiring. They tried to unravel the workings of the typewriter. They looked again at the machine, and considered Brandon's suggestions about ways to test its uses. He was ready to go by mid-afternoon. He said, "Tomorrow is the last day we're in New York, Walter."

"Oh, yes, of course. I miss Gene, too, though I know she's taken care of," Walter said.

Peter didn't even bother to say he hadn't mentioned Gene at all. Like he would, the cow hated him.

He went downstairs and stood in the alley where Liv had killed the shapeshifter that killed Charlie. He called Dr. Felton two hours late. She answered anyway.

"Did I make you work late?"

"It's 4 pm, Peter, that's not late for me." She asked him about how he was sleeping, any side effects.

He answered mostly honestly for once. She said she would increase the dose on one of his pills. "If that doesn't work, we'll try another one."

"Maybe I just don't sleep well regardless of which pills I'm on. I never have before," he said.

"You don't ever remember sleeping well?"

"Actually, no," Peter said. "But I don't remember anything from before I was kidnapped."

"To me, that sounds like an excellent reason to work with your current medication and help you achieve that. You might find it bracing," she said.

He didn't want to talk about it anymore. Peter said, "Hey, so I've had sex with Olivia a few times since I was here in New York. She said she wants to keep doing that when we get back."

It was a successful distraction as Dr. Felton predictably rose to the bait. He easily talked about Olivia for the next 56 minutes.

!

Lincoln didn't tell Liv the updates from his friend from the other side. He didn't tell Charlie. He just sat on the information. They were watching the Secretary's son closely. He was the only one they were interested in any more.

Liv had shared everything about her mission and the device. She had sworn him to secrecy and this one Lincoln was keeping to his grave. It was patently obvious the Secretary had basically one option at this point if he wanted to use his device. Lincoln woke up every day and wondered why the man hadn't taken it.

It wasn't his wife. Lincoln was only judging by the things Liv had said in passing, but he had the impression Mrs. Bishop didn't factor in any of the Secretary's decisions. The man had no love left for his son at this point in time. Or maybe he did.

Lincoln visited his mother once a week. She said, "I'm not a lonely invalid you have to take care of, dear."

He said, "That's not why I visit."

"You visit more than when your father was alive," she said. His mother was still a firecracker, that's the way his father had always described her. Once when Lincoln was a teenager, he'd heard his father talking proudly about his wife and how she had pissed off three separate important people in the administration. Lincoln missed the man and his ridiculous beard. He blinked and looked up, surprised that he had almost teared up.

He said, "I want to make sure you know to look for me if I don't show up."

"I would assume you found a pretty thing to take to bed," his mother said. "Don't talk so morbidly. And don't be so paranoid. It's a lot harder to disappear someone than you think."

"Okay," Lincoln said, nodding. "Even when it's the Secretary?"

His mother stared at him, like he'd stirred some memory for her. She said, "I know how you think of him, Lincoln, judging by that comment, but I remember the good man he is."

"His son was kidnapped," Lincoln said. "He's changed."

"Who wouldn't?" She reached for the tiny gross caramel candies in the bowl next to her. The candies the housekeeper bought, they were insanely cheap and sold in the kind of store that only had generic brands and brands that were one letter off from the one you thought you knew. Lincoln's mother thought they were the best thing in the world. She said, "I was asked out on a date. A poet, he actually edits a zine of poetry."

"What kind of poetry?"

"Poetry that doesn't rhyme, I don't know. I don't read it," his mother said, smiling at him. "I think I want to go."

"You should," Lincoln said. "Bring him some of those candies, you'll definitely get a second date."

His mother laughed at that, and he felt accomplished.

He told Liv the date story when he sat with her the next night, watching something on TV in his apartment. "Your mom," Liv said. "Does she still love those, those caramels? God, I love those."

"She has a bowl of them in the house always. They're disgusting, of course you love them."

"They're so cheap and delicious," Liv said. "Everything else gets expensive and disappears, but you can count on caramel salt pennies."

"Because they're awful and not made from anything actually found in nature," Lincoln said.

"I should stockpile them," Liv said. "When the light's blinking out and it's you, me and Charlie in this apartment, it'd be nice to have them."

"Don't be morbid," Lincoln said. "Charlie will have a lady to die with. You know he will."

"I'm going to buy some this weekend," Liv said.

"You know something I don't?" Lincoln wasn't actually worried. They had at least five more years before that ending. With some work, maybe it could be stretched to ten.

"I know those pennies will outlast us all. So they'll store for as long as I need them."

"Don't buy them," Lincoln said. "When it's time, we'll go to my mom's."

She looked at him like he'd said something that meant more than he had meant to say.

"No," she said, reluctantly. "I don't want to fight with anyone for my pennies." She patted his knee. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

!

Dr. Felton said, "How many times have you been in the state you were after attacking the other Olivia?"

"You want a list of my major depressive episodes? Five," Peter said.

"I didn't call it that," Dr. Felton said, sadly. He would never get her irritated but he held out hope. He was Peter Bishop. He could do this.

She said, "You've been in love five times, you've had five times you did nothing but sleep and drink for a week. Is there any connection?"

"No," Peter said. "Except this last one, they don't correlate."

"Tell me about them, please," she said.

He thought about saying pass to see if she would argue with him. Instead he said, "If the conditions mandate drinking alcohol, it's only four. The first time I was 14."

"I assume there also wasn't a hotel," Dr. Felton said.

"No, it was our apartment in Alston," Peter said.

"You and your mother," Dr. Felton.

Peter nodded, restraining the sarcasm and bile in his mouth. Dr. Felton said, "You've said your mother was depressed. Did she have episodes like this?"

"No," Peter said. "This wasn't a tv show or some cheap movie, she tucked me in every night, she held down a job, she never missed a single school event, she didn't smell of booze, she never ranted at my friends."

"You seem defensive," Dr. Felton said.

He glared at her. If she was having a competition with herself to get him irritated she was winning every session. "When I was over there, I called her weak and sad to my mother."

"Now you think you were wrong?"

"She wasn't weak. I didn't think about it, that her child had died when he was only 7, that she'd lived with Walter falling apart and - me," Peter said. "She still woke up in the morning and worked and took care of me, that's hardly weak."

Dr. Felton said nothing for a moment. Then she said, "So your mother let you sleep for a week."

"Basically," Peter said. "It was a year after Walter went away, since you're about to ask."

"You think the two were linked?"

"I don't have a PhD but it doesn't seem hard to make the correlation, if not assign causation to the event," Peter said. "Number 2 was a year after my mother killed herself, after all."

"So tell me about the other two," Dr. Felton said.

"Last time I was in Boston," Peter said.

"When you were involved with Big Eddie," she said.

"Who told you that? Olivia? Broyles? Should you be using things you learned in other people's sessions?" Peter glared again.

"I read your file, Peter," Dr. Felton said.

"Yes," he said. "Before I split town."

"You were in love," Dr. Felton said.

"Actually, that's how I met her. I'd been working for Big Eddie, and I just couldn't get out of bed. So he sent Tess to check on me." She'd taken one look at him and just sat down on top of the covers next to him. She had rubbed his shoulder while she watched TV. Despite what Tess had insisted, she had known him well. She had.

"And the fourth time?"

Peter looked at the ceiling and back to at his favorite painting. He said, "Something happened in Iraq. Three people died, others were injured. Some people had the impression I was dead, it seemed a good time to get out of town. I got as far as Volgograd and checked into a hotel. Didn't come out for a week." He had called it Vulvagrad in his head his whole stay.

"So two you would say were caused by tragedies in your life," Dr. Felton said. "And the last two were triggered, if I am reading you right, by your reaction to something you did."

Peter considered. "That's not inaccurate."

"Do you feel the same way about what you did to the other Olivia as the part you played in the incident in Iraq?"

Peter refused to consider that one. He said, "So what about number three? General proximity to Boston? I'd been back before."

He waited for Dr. Felton to make him answer her question. She just looked at him, serenely calm.

Peter said, "I think it gets classified with Iraq, I was doing things I was less than proud of. I was a little crazy. Or do you prefer I don't use that word?"

Dr. Felton smiled. She said, "Looks like our time is up. See you in two days."

!

Liv, Charlie and Lincoln looked up at the big screen. They were investigating a new church that advocated suicide and sterilization. Some of the churchgoers seemed to have decided to move beyond advocacy to action.

Liv let Lincoln handle the poor women who'd had their eggs poisoned. Of course, he still asked her why she didn't want to talk any of them.

"Come on, just because I'm the woman, I should be the one to make the sympathetic noises?" Liv said.

"I didn't think that," Lincoln said. "I figured it was because of Rachel. I was asking in case you wanted to share."

"I don't want to share," Liv said. "I bet you want to have kids."

"Not with the current forecasts," Lincoln said. "Maybe if they change."

"They won't," Liv said.

"You're so optimistic, it's one of your most attractive qualities," Lincoln said.

"I'm so realistic you mean, which is attractive, frankly," Liv said. "On the other side, it's so hilarious, they act like they have forever. Every woman is pressured to have kids. All of them. Even I heard it."

"Even you," Lincoln said. "The other Olivia walked around with a sign that said 'I hate children' of course."

"No," Liv said. "One of her neighbors told me I should have kids with Peter after she saw him leave in the morning once - 'you two would have such pretty babies!'"

"He's good breeding stock, that woman was right," Lincoln said. "Except for the genetic illness that kills before the age of 8."

"There's a cure for that," Liv said. "Plus, genius. Way smarter than you. And tall. Taller than you, too." She smirked at him.

"Maybe the Secretary will make a little clone for you," Lincoln said.

"Ugh, don't even put that idea into the atmosphere," Liv said.

Later, after they arrested the responsible church members, Liv sat with Charlie at a bar, drinking. She said, "I can't even have kids."

"That's a random bit of information," Charlie said. She saw through him to the compassion he was expressing.

"Rachel had VPE, I'm sure I have it. And who wants kids in this world?" She swallowed quickly as she drank the yellowish shot in front of her.

"Not me," Charlie said. "But there's a difference between not wanting something and knowing you can't even have it."

"Yeah, I never thought of that," Liv said, eyes wide. "You're so wise because you're so much older than me, right?"

"Exactly," Charlie said.

When Liv got home she was drunk enough she looked up the latest medical news about VPE. It continued to be incurable, inevitably fatal. She thought about the messages Rachel had left for Olivia. She had a great laugh. She blocked out any thought of Ella's voice.

!

Astrid cornered Peter in the lab and said, "Last week." It was their friend codeword. Somehow it made Peter feel good every time she said to him. Of course she cared about him, but invoking the friend codeword was more than abstract appreciation of his existence.

"I wanted it noted I said that to you last time," he said.

"I appreciate it," Astrid said. "Your turn."

He fidgeted, playing with a coin in his pocket. He sighed. "One of the drugs I'm on to sleep isn't working and I keep waking up four, five times a night. I remember my nightmares." They were vivid. He wondered idly if they were from the machine.

Astrid gripped his arm, squeezing firmly. "This week you talked to your doctor?"

"Like she doesn't start every session asking about everything short of how I'm pooping," Peter said.

"Poop can be illuminating," Astrid said.

"Thanks, I remember that case, too," Peter said. "Mine doesn't glow or give off sparks so I don't think it's worth noting. Honestly, I think it's a futile effort. I don't think my newly manifesting mental illnesses are preventing my sleep from being as easy as Walter's. You know how it is with geniuses. Ones who don't smoke pot every day." Astrid rolled her eyes at him. He said, "Your turn."

"I broke up with the girl," Astrid said. "There was a creepy thing going on."

"We live in creepy town," Peter said. "Glowing poop creepy?"

"Not that kind of creepy," Astrid said. "Like, some things she said were incredibly gross. I didn't want to ask more because I was sure I would be offended. Either she was making a bad joke about something, or she was just an awful person. That's not someone you want in your bed."

"Not for longer than a night," Peter said.

"Not even a night for me," Astrid said.

"I'm less discriminating," Peter said. "I used to be." He frowned, thinking of the other Olivia. He wasn't ready to classify them as flashbacks. If he told Dr Felton how vivid they were, how they made him feel, she probably would say they were flashbacks.

Astrid patted his hand.

He said, "So you're on the hunt. Should I look for lesbians for you?"

"You would be the worst wingman," Astrid said. "In what world do you meet more people than I do?"

"My world, before I started with this madhouse," Peter said. "I used to know thousands of people."

"How many of them wanted you dead?"

"A very small percentage," Peter said. "Granted, they were a very vocal percentage. But people like me, I swear."

"I believe you," Astrid said. "I like you. But you made a horrible first impression."

"Sure, but that was because of Walter," Peter said. "If you'd met me in Iraq, you would have been charmed."

"Was Olivia?"

He smiled. "No, but again, Walter." He liked to think of meeting Olivia. Determined, take no prisoners and never take no for an answer Olivia.

!

Olivia had effectively moved into Peter's room since they came back from their four days in New York City. She'd moved almost half her clothes into his closet. She put a picture of Ella on the side table next to the bed. Peter didn't say anything to indicate he objected, so she didn't stop.

She sat on him, his hard dick deep inside her. He held her waist from behind her while she moved. Pushing herself down and up on his dick, the thrusts and stretching, the bursts of his hot breath against her neck, her own languid fingers playing with her clit, the distinct tang of sex in the room, it was all perfectly too much. He still came first, his arm painfully tightening on her. His head fell forward, she could feel his stubble against her neck now. He swore and said her name. She came a minute later.

Ten minutes later, they were still in bed. They were lying side by side and Peter was definitely about to fall back asleep. Olivia thought about coffee, someone should get on that.

Her phone buzzed at the same time they both heard Walter's distinctive knock at the door. She let Peter deal with his father while she got the details from Broyles. She went straight into the bathroom and got into the shower. After a minute or two, Peter stepped in behind. She said, "I'm not shaving my legs and you can't make me."

"I wouldn't make you," he said. "I'll do it for you when we get home, if you want."

"Okay," she said, thinking that sounded very nice. She got out, brushed her teeth, put on her deodorant, debated what to do with her hair before grabbing a brush and ponytail holder to put in her bag before leaving. She was getting dressed as Peter stepped into the bedroom. Walter turned the knob to the door and said, "Why did you lock the door?"

"Because Olivia and I wanted to get dressed without you being in here with us," Peter said, a bite in his voice.

They both finished getting dressed at the same time. Walter stood by the door, almost prancing in excitement. "This one sounds fascinating."

Olivia was checking her gun before putting it on when she remembered Peter needed to take his pills. She said, "Peter," and looked back at the bathroom.

"Right," he said, clearly remembering himself.

"Don't want to forget those," Walter said, cranky. "With the amounts your quack of a physician has you on, one day missed could trigger some frightful symptoms."

Olivia saw Peter pause as he walked to the bathroom. She debated punching Walter in the face. Instead, she took out her phone and called Astrid. "Hey, Astrid," she said, glaring at Walter. "Turns out Walter needs you to take him to the crime scene."

Astrid said she'd be there in 5 minutes. "Let me walk you out, Walter," Olivia said.

Walter was sputtering in protest, of course. "I wasn't looking in his bathroom, Olivia. We did blood tests at Massive Dynamic, it was important to figure out what was in his blood."

Olivia stood a little away from Walter on the sidewalk. "What has Peter made absolutely clear to you?"

"Yes, yes," Walter said. "He has all sorts of rules now."

"There aren't that many, Walter, and you know what the first one is."

Astrid pulled up. She could hear Walter telling his side of the story and thankfully, hear Astrid saying, "Sounds like you didn't want to ride with Peter to me."

She waved at Astrid and went back upstairs. For an agonizing few seconds as she walked in, she couldn't find Peter, could only see the closed bedroom door. She imagined the worst.

Then he stepped into the living room, holding two foil wrapped burritos. "I had five minutes, so I thought, breakfast."

"Thanks," she said, taking one from his hand.

"I did take my quack pills, you and Walter don't need worry," he said.

They drove in silence for half an hour. Then Olivia said, "That was a great breakfast burrito, thank you."

Peter didn't reply. It was another five minutes before he said, "I could have called Astrid myself, you know."

"I do know," Olivia said. "Sorry. I was just so angry at him."

"Which is sweet, but not necessary. You have to put it in context. They didn't treat him well in St. Claire's. He loves me, he feels responsible when I'm upset. He thinks what I'm taking won't help because he equates it with how St. Claire's prescribed," Peter said. His eyes were closed and she could see the darkness under his eyes.

"That's not an excuse," Olivia said. "He knows. You've made it clear to him where you stand on this. He can control himself, he chooses not to."

"Yeah, it's never going to work," Peter said. "But I don't need you to do it for me."

"I won't," Olivia said.

!

The body was according to Walter, "utterly fascinating." She didn't grasp how a man could have his heart removed and still be alive 5-10 minutes afterward. Peter rushed around and came back with medicine. He and Walter were already theorizing about how any of this was possible. Peter looked at her over the hole where the heart had been.

She said, "Astrid, you come with me, we'll talk to this doctor."

Astrid and Peter both smiled. She tossed her keys to Peter. "See you."

Olivia had a moment of suffocating deja vu at the hospital but she shrugged it off. The doctor told them their victim had had a heart transplant. As they drove to the Federal Building, Olivia said, "I should bring you out more often. I don't think this is what you envisioned your FBI career as in Quantico."

Astrid said, "I didn't envision being you either. Not that there's anything wrong with that." She was grinning and Olivia smiled back. Astrid said, "I was thinking cyber crimes, white collar crime, not like you and Charlie."

"I can't believe you couldn't foresee your future as lab assistant slash babysitter to a mad scientist."

"I hadn't met Olivia Dunham yet," Astrid said.

They discovered the other body thefts, and rushed to the poor man who lost his eyes.

"I need to speak with you," Broyles said to Olivia.

She said with trepidation, "Sir?"

"Dr. Felton has recommended for your sessions to stop. Barring another horrific event in your life -"

"I'm not crossing my fingers," Olivia said.

"Barring that, you no longer need to go. Well done, Dunham." Broyles didn't smile. Olivia thought of the other shoe dropping suddenly. "Then she asked why I keep ignoring her recommendation to remove Peter Bishop from any field work."

Olivia nodded and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I used your name. I wanted to make sure he could see Dr. Felton."

"I read all those reports you ignored, Agent, Dr. Felton was your best option. You should have said something to me," Broyles said.

"I was concerned that removing Peter from field work was more of a, it wasn't like he was going to rest and go to a spa," Olivia said.

"I'm not bound by Dr. Felton's recommendations when it comes to my civilian consultants. She was not advising he sit and rest, she wants him benched so his reckless disregard for his own life doesn't put everyone else in danger. He's not ready to stop his sessions. Let him know I said that," Broyles said.

Olivia said, "Yes, Sir." She bit at her lip a little. She said, "Dr. Felton says he's getting better, right? I think he is."

"She does say that," Broyles said.

Peter took Broyles's new role in his treatment blankly. He nodded and went back to reading his book. "You're taking this well," she said.

"I thought you were lying to me and he was already seeing the reports," Peter said.

"I wasn't," Olivia said. "You can trust me, Peter."

"I do, it just seemed like the kind of thing you wouldn't feel bad about lying to me about."

"I wouldn't, I would feel bad," Olivia said.

Peter shrugged. He and Walter had spent the day trying to decipher how the man had kept these people alive.

In the morning they went running. Olivia liked to alternate sprints and jogs. She'd been disturbed that Peter not only looked thinner but seemed softer in the gut. She needed him to be someone she could rely on. Which she had said to him. She tried to tell him how she felt. She was apparently sane enough to be free of Dr. Felton. She didn't feel it. She felt mean telling Peter he was fat.

Peter had beat her in the sprint. She might be in better shape but his stride would always be longer. Now they were jogging. "It's incredibly impressive, what this guy did. Walter was speculating that if this had been discovered sooner, it might be one of the reasons for the rapid advancement of medicine on the other side. Walter said maybe my father had been the one to think of it."

Peter's face was flushed red. She said, "What did you say?"

"I said no matter what, Walter was my dad."

"That's sweet," Olivia said.

"He's never going to stop asking about things I explicitly tell him not to," Peter said.

Olivia said, "Push up time." Peter rolled his eyes and but got into position next to her. She said, "You know your posture's all wrong. Don't stick up your butt."

"I love running with you," he said. He did adjust. After 20, he shifted back to a squat and then stood up quickly. He pulled her to him, his hand tight on her waist, then kissed her. They were so close. She couldn't breathe from the closeness of him, how much she wanted him. He stopped and said, "No more push ups."

She was embarrassingly trying to catch her breath. "For this run," she said.

They discovered the identity of the donor of all the organs. Peter once again waved her on to leave with Astrid. The grieving mother told them about her daughter's depression and suicide. The mother said, "I know she was fighting for herself, but it was just too hard. I came home every day dreading exactly this."

Olivia thought about coming into the room the day before, looking for Peter. She leaned forward and said to the mother, "I'm so sorry." There must have been something in her eyes. The mother broke down sobbing.

Astrid said, "I'm going to make us all some tea."

When Astrid came back, she said, "I'm so sorry, is there any way we can exhume your daughter's body? I'm so sorry."

"No," the mother. "You can't. She was cremated."

They brought the urn back to Walter who pronounced it not human ash. Astrid made a few calls and confirmed that the body had been stolen. Peter gave up dealing with Walter and joined Olivia in their attempt to find the killer.

"This guy's a genius, whichever of these men he is. I'm pretty sure Walter is going to try and hire him for Massive Dynamic if we don't have to kill him."

"I'm sure he wouldn't be the first murderer Nina's supervised," Olivia said.

"Probably not even the tenth," Peter said.

They found the man and went to his house. The man said to her, "I looked in her eyes, it wasn't her."

Olivia went downstairs and found Walter standing by what had been Emily. The thing's eyes didn't even focus. As she and Walter stood there, the thing took its last breath.

Olivia drove herself and Peter home. He said, "After you ordering me around all day, I want my turn."

She said, "I didn't order you around all day."

"So you're objecting to being tied up and spanked?"

"I object to being tied up," Olivia said. She smiled slyly at him.

!

Liv had no problems with the job. She was happy working with Lincoln and Charlie, investigating, saving people, kicking ass. They had a case with bugs, disgusting bugs that some mad scientist was growing in people. He grew the last one in himself, as Liv watched in horror. The important part was that Charlie found a soulmate and Liv and Lincoln found someone to tease him about.

Broyles sometimes looked at her funny. She couldn't describe it exactly. It was just funny. Lincoln swore he had no idea what she was talking about. Liv thought maybe Broyles missed her alternate. She'd read the files. The other one had saved Broyles's son. Liv didn't think she would have pulled that off, but of course the other Olivia did.

Broyles looked at her funny.

Liv moped, once in awhile. She could admit it. She even bought wine and tried drinking it. She still didn't like the taste but she could finish it off. Mrs. Bishop came by on Sunday. She said, "You seem a little down."

"Sometimes I am a little down," Liv said. She smiled. "I think too much, it'll pass."

"You really think you think too much? There's usually nothing wrong with introspection," Mrs. Bishop said.

"Where does it get you, though? How many times can I turn something over and over in my head before it's just pointless?"

"I think it's generally agreed that it's pointless after 83 times," Mrs. Bishop said, with a small smile.

Liv laughed. She said, "You look so much like Peter when you joke like that. I mean, he looked like you."

"That's nice of you to say," Mrs. Bishop said. "But I do think sometimes there is value in worrying at our decisions. Or how we reacted."

"I know I'm not a saint," Liv said.

"I would never say you were," Mrs. Bishop said. "But you're hardly a soulless demon."

"I bet your son disagrees," Liv said, frowning.

"Is that what you're thinking about too much?"

"No," Liv said. She wasn't lying. "I worry that I followed orders and the orders were wrong."

Mrs. Bishop nodded. "I know," she said. Mrs. Bishop was showing Liv to cook, so they did that the rest of the afternoon.

Lincoln came by in the evening, which he kept doing. He loved just stopping by. He said the lasagna was "not bad."

"It's not great, either," Liv said. "You don't need to keep stopping by, Lincoln, I'm fine."

"Maybe I just like your company," he said.

Liv stared at him. He didn't look away. She said, "Maybe I don't want to be your company."

"That doesn't seem true," he said.

"You think you know best," she said.

He smiled at her. "I don't know best at all. I have no idea about a lot of things."

"You never say things like that, never," Liv said. "I should make a recording and play it for Charlie."

"I have no idea what goes through your head sometimes," he said.

Liv got up from the table abruptly. She said, "Why won't she fuck me when she'll fuck him?"

"That is not what I meant," Lincoln said, no teasing at all in his tone. "I don't sit around wondering about what's going on in your pants."

"You're lying," Liv said.

"You're being an asshole," Lincoln said, getting up and standing next to her.

"I am an asshole, sometimes," Liv said, her anger deserting her. She barely understood what she was angry about. So she was just standing there, too close to Lincoln.

Lincoln held her at her waist, holding her still, and kissed her. She said, "You've been waiting a long time to do that again."

He didn't reply. He just smirked at her and then kissed her again. She said, "Worth the wait?"

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe I like the reviews," Liv said. She wondered if she was doing something wrong.

Lincoln pushed her against the counter. He leaned into her, his thigh pressing between her legs. He kissed her again and again, his hands up under her shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to get her shirt off. He unhooked her bra and pulled that off. He was breathing heavily, staring at her breasts.

She said, "I'm pretty sure we're going to do this again, there's no need to rush. You can slow down and enjoy it."

He touched her cheek and she pulled his hand down to her breast. He said, "First time we rush, after that we go slow."

His hand cupped her breast and then he was teasing her nipple. She was breathing heavily now. She said, "Are you just being contrary?"

"Yes," he said. He kissed her again. He pushed her pants and underwear down. He quickly turned her around so she was bracing herself against the counter. She heard him getting his pants down and then he was pushing inside. He said, "This is good?" His hands were tight on her hips, like she would slip away.

"Yes, please," she said, pushing back. She panted in want, she was already wet. It didn't feel weird or like she was taking advantage. She felt amazing. "Maybe next time fast, too," she said.

!

"I used to feel so safe," Olivia said. She and Astrid were sitting on Astrid's couch, watching a movie Astrid had picked. Olivia couldn't concentrate on it. "Actually, scratch that, I never felt safe."

"Now you feel even less safe," Astrid said. "Because your mind hasn't been your own? That would scare me."

"What an excellent point," Olivia said, almost smiling since it was Astrid. She said, "Ever since this all started I have to get used to nothing being reliable. Not people or the sun rising or who I am."

"Gene hasn't changed," Astrid said.

Olivia nodded. "Gene still hates Peter, that's been consistent, too."

"That cow is holding a grudge for something, I know it," Astrid said. "You never felt safe?" She sounded sad. She patted Olivia's back and Olivia thought of Peter doing the same years ago.

The next day they were sent to a house that had a "scary vibe." Olivia brought Astrid and they entered with their guns drawn. This was sort of thing she used to take Peter to, but she didn't trust him enough now, even with his usual makeshift weapons. Astrid she had complete faith in.

The first floor was deserted of people, though it looked like someone had been squatting in the kitchen. They had vomited a lot in there as well. They started up the stairs to the second floor when Olivia saw red spots at the edge of her vision. She blinked and looked over at Astrid. Astrid said, "We need to get out now."

Astrid holstered her gun and grabbed Olivia's arm to pull her out. In the fresh air, they both threw up in front of the porch. Astrid said, "You should have brought Peter this time."

"Really?"

"He has more mass than the two of us," Astrid said. "I think it was some sort of gas, so bigger, less affected."

"He does have mass," Olivia said. She pushed her hair off her face. "He tripped once and fell right on me."

Astrid smiled. She was already on her cell phone. Olivia had to sit down in the dirt, away from where they'd been standing. "Am I less mass than you?"

Astrid said, "Well, I don't skip meals because I'm too busy and don't consider coffee a meal, so, yes."

"Peter's so skinny, now, though," Olivia said. "I am," she covered her mouth and stopped talking. She wasn't making sense.

"They're going to take you to the hospital," Astrid said. "Peter and Walter are coming with gas masks. So it doesn't matter how skinny Peter has gotten. They'll figure out what it is."

"Okay," Olivia said.

"Do you want to talk more about who's fatter?" Astrid smiled at her again, a gentle look in her eyes.

"Gene is the fattest," Olivia said.

"Yes," Astrid said, nodding her head. She touched her forehead. "I'm going to hit the hospital, too."

It turned out the idiot who lived there had played with the plants the previous idiot resident had experimented on. "Astrid's so excited," Peter said, sitting next to Olivia on their couch. When she'd been discharged, Peter had insisted she had to stay in. "Astrid said she's never gotten to see any files from the old X files."

"Those were burned, or something," Olivia said.

"Not all of them. The first tenant was in there. She was really excited." Peter patted Olivia's knee.

"I like working with Astrid," Olivia said. "She makes me feel safe." She realized right after she'd said it how it must sound to Peter. It was the truth, though. She was mean to him all the time, she thought.

She kissed his cheek and he smiled slightly.


	6. They only talk to you

This chapter has graphic violence, suicide, suicidal ideation.

* * *

Peter woke up angry, furious, at whatever he'd been dreaming of. He couldn't place it, all he could gather up was vague dread. He wondered if he'd dreamed of her again. He always imagined her laughing at him, assumed she'd faked her enjoyment with him every time, laughed at what an idiot he was. He had this dream that someday he'd be the person who slept through the night and woke up refreshed.

Olivia woke up and raised herself up on her elbow. "Are you awake?"

"I am," he said. He reached down and pulled her underwear half way down. He tapped her exposed butt. He said, "Really?"

She'd already arched her back into his hand. "Really, if you want."

"Okay," he said, shifting them both so Olivia was over his knees, sort of. He said, "Tell me if it's too hard or not enough and anytime you want to stop, say stop, okay?"

"Okay," she said. She was already squirming. He did what she wanted. She really liked the hard slaps that left red marks on her pale butt. When he pressed his hands into her red skin as he fucked her from behind, she came that much harder. He memorized the way her face looked and her chest flushed.

Olivia laid on her stomach and looked over at him. "You're the best," she said.

"I enjoyed myself," he said. "Not as much as you, but still, happy."

"You should tell me if you have any things you particularly enjoy," she said.

"Besides sex with you?" He smiled and pulled her closer.

"I can take it if you're into, I dunno, nipple clamps and butt plugs." She pushed her hair, damp with sweat, out of her face. She was smiling, too. They were something like a happy couple. He felt a surge of panic.

He said, "What if I was into tentacle dildos?"

"You know they had those on the other side?" Olivia actually giggled.

"I did know, I saw an ad," Peter said. "I don't actually want to try that."

"Lincoln did, one of the agents I worked with. She worked with. Anyway, he said it wasn't as hard as a dick but it was hard enough to really feel it. You program it to, basically, grow inside you, like something with a tentacle is fucking you. And it wiggles, it doesn't vibrate," Olivia said.

"Now I do want to try that," he said, pulling her close.

She kissed him and cuddled with him until he actually fell asleep.

This time he woke up from a nightmare. He was 15, drugged and marched into the machine. He burned alive. Peter rolled out of the bed, like it would save him. He sat with his back against the bed, his between his knees. He'd sat just like that after he beat her, choked her, and shot her so she wouldn't get up. Olivia reached out and touched his shoulder, like that time, too.

"Peter, are you okay?"

"Nightmare," he said. He pushed himself up and got back in bed. This was why she felt safer with Astrid, he thought.

!

Liv looked exhausted, worn down. Lincoln was sure he looked something similar, a few degrees less maybe. Still, he hooked his fingers in a belt loop on her pants and pulled her to the couch.

"Aww," Liv said. "Now you're being nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you," Lincoln said, taking off her boots and socks. "Although, damn, your feet smell."

"Funny, yours are always so pleasant. Like fresh flowers," Liv said. She tried to lift her stinky feet to his face. He got up from the couch and went to the bathroom.

"My place is so superior to yours," Lincoln said. He put down the foot massager/cleansing bath gadget his father had bought him. He put her feet in and turned it on. She moaned in pleasure. "Okay, not so happy. Maybe sound a little less happy than you do during sex."

"Better than sex with you," she said, baring her teeth.

"Move over," he said, putting his own feet in with hers.

"These are expensive," Liv said.

"My dad bought it for me when I started at Fringe," Lincoln said. "He correctly anticipated the walking, standing, kicking, jumping part of the job."

Liv nodded. "He approved of you doing this," she said.

"Not at all," Lincoln said. "I was supposed to be a scientist or lawyer. Like Mom or like Dad."

"Elizabeth said once they had plans like that for Peter," Liv said.

"And look how he turned out," Lincoln said, his voice cold.

Liv leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She didn't defend Peter or agree with Lincoln, not that he thought she would. She finally said, "You need to stop letting that get to you."

"Peter?"

She touched his feet in the bath, a way he thought was meant to nice. She said, "I'm pretty sure you would have freaked out in the same situation he was in, I'm over being angry with him for that. Also I'm over him in a romantic sense, so you can stop being jealous."

"I am neither, thank you very much," Lincoln said, lying. "I'm allowed to still hold grudges on your behalf even if you've forgiven someone."

"Fine, focus on those guys I hated in the Academy," she said. "Carey, Wilson, and Boyd."

"You know they're all dead, right?"

She opened her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, looking at her to gage her sincerity. "Boyd's the only one who died while you were away. Carey and Wilson died last year."

"I didn't exactly follow their careers," Liv said. She was sincerely sad.

"Why did you hate them?"

"I dated Carey, we broke up, the other two treated me like shit for it," Liv said, shrugging. "I didn't want them dead."

"I know," Lincoln said.

The gadget turned itself off. Liv lifted her feet out and turned so her legs were in his lap. She said, "Now my feet smell good, make me dinner."

"From here?" Lincoln tapped his cuff and ordered Thai food.

"See? You're great," Liv said, laying back and closing her eyes.

"And now you just fall asleep," he said, but she was already asleep. She really was exhausted.

He delicately moved her legs so he could get up. He put the bath away. He tidied. He thought about how only one of his exes was dead. It wasn't a bad ratio. He was thinking even more morbid thoughts while he waited for the food to arrive. He should wake Liv up, even if she was angry it would be less depressing. She looked peaceful on the couch and he decided not to. At least not until the food came.

!

Astrid said, "Ugh, why do we get the creepy serial killer case?"

"He's removing brains and organs and seemingly without using surgical tools," Olivia said.

"Psychic surgery," Walter said, eagerly.

"There was an X-file," Astrid said, equally eager.

"It's not that," Peter said. "He's using some kind of laser to do the cutting, but it's more sophisticated than anything you'd find in a hospital, even the best ones."

Walter nodded, pouring over each of the photos of the bodies. "Can we see the actual bodies, please?"

"Not until he strikes again," Olivia said. "He seems to wait about 10 days between each kill, and so far, he's kept to that schedule for 90 days."

"He's experimenting," Peter said. "It's not the kill or the victim, he's testing his little tool." Peter held up two of the autopsy reports. "These two would have lived if someone found them in time. He just wanted to see if he could do it."

"He doesn't care about the victims as people, that's clear," Olivia said. "He shows no remorse, he doesn't have a victim pattern which is weird."

"We just can't see it yet," Walter said. "After all, we don't know what he's testing his laser tool for. He undoubtedly has a very precise way of choosing his victims so he can catalogue how it works on different tissue or conditions or blood types."

"This is unbelievably creepy," Astrid said. "I would have preferred psychic surgery."

Walter said, again eagerly, "How many days until he strikes again?"

"It should be today, Walter," Olivia said, frowning.

"Oh, good, we'll have a body then," Walter said.

Peter sighed. "Try not to sound so much like you're looking forward to someone dying a pretty painful death, Walter."

Walter huffed and went over to his preferred table where he was doing something to cashews. Peter was genuinely a little frightened to ask Walter about it. He said, "I'm going to look at these pictures again and see if I can reconstruct some of what this psycho has invented."

"Maybe he stole it," Walter said. "He has to test it because he doesn't know how to make it work on his own."

"He knows how to make it work, but you're right, maybe he did steal it," Olivia said. "So besides Walter and Massive Dynamic, anyone else working on this kind of laser?"

"I'm on it," Peter said. He sat down and scanned the usual forums and locked up websites where people bragged about these kind of weapons.

It took him four hours but he tracked a thread to a forum to a password only gambling site and finally, he had a name and vague location. Then he cycled through a few ex-friends he had who might know a guy who knew a guy. He had to call a few on the phone so he went outside into the chilled Boston air. He was talking to one of them when Olivia stood in front of him. He said, "Got to go," and ended the call. "Yes?"

"We think we have the body," Olivia said. "Astrid and I are off to look at the scene and then bring back the body. Anything we should look for?"

"The laser is very precise, but there might still be emissions or it might need to be loaded. I'm not sure, grab anything that looks weird," he said.

He bent to kiss her and she kissed him back. She smiled as she waved and left.

One of his disreputable ex-hookups called him back with a much less vague location. Peter checked on Walter and then got in his car. It occurred to him after ten minutes this was exactly the sort of reckless thing that he was supposed to have stopped doing.

He took his phone out and texted what he knew to Olivia and where he was going. Then he turned the phone off and put it on the passenger seat. That was less reckless, he thought.

He and the other Olivia had once spent half a day squatting in an abandoned warehouse, waiting for two idiots who were smuggling souped up wasps. He remembered having fun. He remembered how easily she had dispatched the idiots and their three friends with five quickly placed shots. After the scene was processed and the ambulance and the coroner left, she'd convinced him to have sex in the car before they went home.

He turned on the phone as he got out of the car and scanned the street. Olivia had texted him to say wait. Wait. He leaned against the car and looked at his phone, thinking about it. He had settled on just waiting when he saw his target walking up the street to the apartment building. Even if he didn't know it was the guy (Peter had pulled up a driver's license photo), he would have guessed it was the guy by the arrogant stride and tube like thing under the man's coat. Peter held his phone to his ear and started drunk mumbling with intermittent shouting of "Come on, babe," as he paced around his car.

He pulled it off for the first five minutes and then the guy squinted at Peter and frowned. Peter moved towards the driver's side but the guy got there first. "I think someone you know called me to tell me you were looking for me," Laser Guy said.

"If we have mutual acquaintances, then I gotta tell you, most of my acquaintances are lying assholes," Peter said.

"Are you a cop or something?" Laser Guy was casually menacing.

"Consultant," Peter said easily.

"Cop for hire?"

"Person with access to cops and feds. Access to toys and informations," Peter said, smiling. "Can I see the laser?"

Laser Guy pulled out his weapon. Peter recognized it immediately as tech from the other side. He said, "Cool. You're getting really good at using that thing."

"I'm an expert," Laser Guy said. "Have you ever used one?"

"No," Peter said. "I'm not a weapons guy. I'm more of an engineer. I want to take it apart, figure it out. But then you can't use it, so I guess that option is out."

"What if I had another one?"

"That would be awesome," Peter said. "But I get that you don't really know me and might not want to share just yet. Let's work something out."

Laser Guy shrugged. "That's one thought."

Peter had been in enough negotiations that went bad to figure out what Laser Guy intended so he ducked the first punch. He wasn't quick enough to get out of the way of the second and he'd put himself in an awkward place, so he hit the car. He managed to roll away and kept his momentum even after Laser Guy kicked him hard. Peter kept going before Laser Guy decided to use his laser blaster.

A car pulled up, lights blaring. He heard Olivia shouting, "FBI, freeze." He heard a shot, then another one, there was a flash and for some reason Peter passed out.

He woke up in the hospital, Olivia looking over him, annoyed. She said, "You were being reckless again."

"I called you, I waited. The guy came up to me," Peter said. "Why am I even here?"

"Crorber also had a gun, he shot you when I shot him. It's not serious," Olivia said.

"His name was Crorber? Did you recognize the laser weapon?" Peter tried to sit up.

"I did," Olivia said. Now she looked worried. She sat down next to his bed. "How'd a Fringe Division weapon get to this side and how'd he get it?"

"Where did I get shot?"

Olivia smiled. "It winged your butt. You're going to have a scar."

"Shot in the butt," Peter said. "When do I get to go home?"

"Tomorrow morning," Olivia said. "I think they're just keeping you because they think you're cute."

"I waited," he said.

"I know," Olivia said. She stood up and leaned over and kissed him. "I worry about you."

"I like that about you," he said.

!

Olivia and Astrid decided to see a movie. It was an arty thing, not Olivia's usual, but Astrid promised her there were elements of horror.

It was psychological horror, though. Olivia didn't want to think about all the scenes that made her chest hurt and her heart pound. She wondered, trying to sit with her discomfort, if it was the other Olivia reacting or Olivia herself?

Sitting in her discomfort didn't work. She took her popcorn and waited in the lobby. Astrid came out after the movie was over and said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it would be that kind of horror."

"What do you think I didn't like?"

Astrid looked at Olivia. She looked momentarily puzzled, like she wasn't sure Olivia was sincere. Then she accepted it, and Olivia could see her taking the question seriously. "I'm not sure," Astrid said. "The child abuse stuff was when you first tensed up. You didn't like the personality overwriting and the gaslighting. I understand what that might stir up."

"Sorry, I know it's an odd question. Sometimes I don't even know why I'm upset," Olivia said. "Isn't that awful?"

"But you got popcorn out of it," Astrid said.

"Yes, I did," Olivia said. "How do you feel about pie?"

"I feel great about pie," Astrid said.

They went to a coffee shop a few blocks from the theatre where they always had fantastic pies. Tonight it was raspberries in a thick syrup with chocolate crust. She and Astrid cooed over every bite. Olivia even got an extra piece for Peter.

Astrid said, "How's that going? Roommates to lovers."

"It's, it's mostly good. It's all good. He's a wonderful boyfriend," Olivia said. "How generic does that sound?"

"I don't need too much detail," Astrid said.

"He probably gives you too much," Olivia said. "It's nice you two are close."

"I'm not telling you things he tells me in confidence," Astrid said. "I'm pretty sure he thinks you're a wonderful girlfriend."

!

Liv woke up alone. She refused to let Lincoln move in with her. It was officially too much. They worked together, they had sex 6 nights out of 7, she was not going to let him take over every minute of her day.

She hated his furniture, too.

It was not about insecurity. Or worrying about her relationship. That Lincoln wanted her more than she wanted him. She thought the same had been true with Frank. Maybe the only time she'd been the one who wanted it more was with Peter. That had been very much one-sided. This was a stupid way to think.

She got out of bed and went to work.

"We have a kidnapping," Broyles said. It was a gruesome one. The nanny took the kid from the mother, handed the girl over to the father, and then collapsed in the park as the dad walked away.

"The nanny died from her brain overheating so much it became gaseous, then liquefied and drained down her spine," Lincoln said.

"I repeat, gruesome," Charlie said.

"Obviously, our first target is the father," Liv said.

Lincoln nodded. "Let's bring him in. Charlie, you two can have a long, thorough talk."

Charlie did well, as usual. But they still had questions. Liv said, "They hooked me up to a machine to extract my memories when I got back. Are we allowed to do that to this asshole?"

Broyles considered. He said, "That's a good idea. There can be unpleasant side effects when the subject is unwilling."

"That sounds like more of a plus," Charlie said. "You heard him. He took that kid only to screw his ex-wife. We don't know how he did it or where the kid is."

Liv said, "How did he even figure out how to do it? Is that something we could work out before we rip his brains?"

Charlie said, "We shouldn't let investigations stop us from ripping his brains."

"I completely agree," Liv said. "But the sooner we start looking, the sooner we find the kid."

Astrid reported that the brain melt down the spine method of death had been recorded three times previously. "The deceased were all patients of the same doctor, Dr. Eliot Tuckerson. He treated them for migraines. Dr. Tuckerson has been ambered since 2009 in the Bronx. You asked for the address and I have sent it to you."

"He's been ambered," Liv said.

Charlie glanced at Liv and then back down. Liv was immediately embarrassed. "Okay, what did I miss?"

Lincoln took her arm and said, "I'll tell you on the way."

He did. "But that's horrible," she said. "They're still alive?"

Lincoln said, "If this guy melted three people's brains, he deserves to be ambered."

"What about everyone else trapped in there? Or in Boston or Madison Square Garden?"

"I don't like a lot of the Secretary's tactics either, Liv, but amber is necessary. Otherwise we'd be even further on the road to complete destruction. We have to do something."

"Sorry, I haven't processed this news as quickly as you did," she said.

He frowned. "Sorry," he said. "You're right."

But the doctor was still in the amber, no sign of disturbance. "So that's one suspect eliminated."

"Did anyone figure out how the doctor did it?"

"No," Lincoln said. Liv was driving while Lincoln did more research. "Nobody could figure it out."

"How was he treating their migraines?"

"No one knows, because his office was ambered at the same time he was."

Liv said, "Did he cause that tear?"

Lincoln looked at her. "Smart," he said. "The tear was an anomaly. Came out of nowhere, none of the usual signals we get for a 'natural' one."

"So he was trying to cure migraines with what? How does that cause a tear?"

"I have no idea," Lincoln said. "But we can look into it back at the base."

Back in front of their computers, somehow Liv and Charlie tried to reconstruct Tuckerson's practice from records that weren't ambered. Lincoln got the job of connecting Tuckerson to the dad.

"He spent a lot for tea," Liv said, looking at the bills. "And he only bought two varieties. I think he had to have bought 600 bags a month. Assume each client used two, he and the nurse four a day - Astrid can I ask you a question?"

"Even if he was open weekends and he was not, only 400 tea bags would be needed," Astrid said.

Liv passed Astrid the bill. "So why was he padding this bill?"

Astrid said, "I will check on the tea supplier."

Another few hours, it was time to go home. But the little girl was somewhere and her dad who didn't give a shit was strapped into the machine that would suck his memories. Everyone stayed without thinking.

Liv looked up and saw the Secretary talking to Broyles in his office. Lincoln was staring at the man, too. It was weird. The Secretary's wife had told Liv in small pieces how much losing his son had devastated the man. Mrs. Bishop talked sometimes about things she heard and overheard, the man was so desperate to operate his machine. He didn't have Peter, he didn't have the pieces from the machine. Mrs. Bishop and Liv had fallen silent at that moment. They both knew what was left for him to do. Neither of them thought he wouldn't.

Liv had said something about how her own mother had tried to teach her cooking but here was Mrs. Bishop succeeding. Mrs. Bishop had said that really, Liv was just indulging an old woman, taking the lessons. Liv had called her an old hot woman, "Don't forgot you're hot."

Mrs. Bishop had blushed slightly and said, "Oh, I won't."

Liv never asked why the Bishops hadn't divorced. Now she was seeing the man again, first time since he'd sent her to go fuck his son.

She looked back at her work. She assumed Lincoln had done the same.

Charlie found the records that showed the tea supplier had come up in a case involving designer street drugs. "And not just drugs," Charlie said, reporting after calling the cops who'd handled it. "But procedures. Remember all those equipment maintenance bills? Maybe this was something freaky."

"Define freaky," Lincoln said with a smile.

"Not the kind of thing you and Liv do behind closed doors," Charlie said.

"You never know," Liv said. "How freaky are you and bug lady?"

Lincoln looked over all the records. He said, "Mind control."

They both looked at him. He said, "The nanny was mind controlled. She didn't want to do it, and then her brain went up in flames. These other three deaths, they all acted out of character before they died the same way."

Liv said, "A combination of drugs and some procedure gave Tuckerson the ability to get these people to do something and then die?"

Broyles stepped out of his office. He said, "That sounds about right." He pulled out his tablet. He said, "The father knew the doctor. He was a supplier of parts. He managed to recreate what Tuckerson did. And we found his kid."

Everyone smiled or looked relieved. Charlie said, "She's home now?"

Broyles smiled. "Yes, she is."

Lincoln said, "So we know how Tuckerson did it?"

"No, we just have some idea of the components involved. We've referred it to Science Division."

Liv said, "Were there unpleasant side effects?" She was smiling.

"For the father? Sadly yes." Broyles didn't look sad at all.

Lincoln drove Liv home. Liv said, "We just gave the Secretary the means to mind control someone. We know who he'll use it on."

"No, he won't," Lincoln said. He was faking his confidence, Liv could tell.

"Because Peter would be left dead? I don't think the Secretary would care," Liv said.

"Maybe they won't figure it out," Lincoln said.

"The doctor and that asshole dad figured it out, you don't think the Secretary and Dr. Fayette can't figure it out? They'll probably improve it." Liv shook her head. "I don't want to think about it."

They kissed a little in bed. Liv said, "Let's just sleep, okay?" Lincoln nodded. He wrapped her in his arms. It reminded her of Peter. She opened her eyes so she saw her apartment, saw Lincoln things, saw Lincoln's arm. This was better, she thought. She fell asleep easily.

!

When he and Olivia were all the way into the living room, he pulled his jeans down just enough to get his dick free. He tugged at Olivia's suit pants as she was unzipping them. "You should wear more skirts," Peter said, his hands going up under her shirt.

She pushed off her pants and underwear. "You wear more skirts," she said. She lifted one of her legs to wrap around his hip and he thrust into her. She gripped his neck to stay in place, her other hand on her clit. He had her shirt up to her armpits, hands and mouth on her breasts. "I missed you," she said.

He could only see her and only feel her. He wanted all of her. He felt her fast heartbeat through her skin and every shuddering moment as she came. She lay back on the couch, now both legs around his waist. It only took a few more thrusts and he came as well. "I missed you, too," he said.

They were in a mess of a heap on the couch. Olivia had her hands in his hair. She smiled at him. She said, "I need to shower. Right now. I have airplane and sex all over me."

She managed to get up and disentangled with more grace than Peter would have had. He said, "Next time you have to leave the state for three days, take me with you." They hadn't even found anything about the guy who sold Crorber his laser gun.

Olivia paused at the doorway to their bathroom. She said, "That was Broyles's call." She looked at him seriously, and then started the shower.

He'd shed everything but his t-shirt on the way following her. He felt ridiculous and took off his shirt. He said, "Broyles decided I was too crazy to leave the state? When did that happen?"

Olivia spoke over the water. "He told me when I left. He also said to wait to tell you until the case was over."

Peter thought and watched Olivia through the shower curtain. She left the water on when she stepped out. She started to say something but stopped when she saw his face. He wondered if he looked angry or something else. He wasn't angry.

When he came out of the bedroom in his pajama pants, Olivia was already on the couch in her tank top and decade old sweats. She said, "I don't know why Broyles decided that."

"I didn't think you did," he said. He sat down next to her. "Did you order food?"

"Not in the five minutes since I got out of the shower," she said. "Have you been having more weird Machine dreams?"

"That sounds like the title of an album Walter would play on repeat in the lab. And yes, a few," he said. He called a pizza place and ordered their standard. "One of us should get up and get beers."

"Fine," Olivia said, standing up. She was back in a minute with two beers she put on the table. She took the remote and started looking for something both would want to watch on TV.

"I'm not upset Broyles thinks I'm crazier than my father," Peter said.

"He doesn't think that. You know what he's upset about," Olivia said.

Peter rubbed his forehead. "We're good, though."

"I accept that you got shot in the butt -"

"Winged in the butt," Peter said. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch.

"You waited," Olivia said. "Did you really want to go to Des Moines?"

"I love to travel," Peter said. "Let's move on."

!

They were back in New York so Olivia had insisted on staying at the Thompson LES again. She loved that hotel. They wrapped up the case sooner than expected so they even had time to stop by a bar near the hotel. She had ordered them both cognac when she remembered Peter's prescriptions. "Can you drink that?"

"I won't operate heavy machinery," Peter said, smiling. "Good thing we can walk back to the hotel."

"We'll keep it to one," she said.

Peter leaned back against the bar, looking over the whole room. It wasn't very busy.

It was easy to spot the 30 something white male who glanced at Peter and did a double take of recognition. Knowing the sort of people who Peter used to know, Olivia braced herself. The now angry man walked up to Peter and said, "It's Peter, right? I don't remember your last name."

"Yes," Peter said. There was a peculiar set to Peter's jaw Olivia knew from their visit to Iraq. Whatever had made this man angry, Peter thought he deserved it.

"You're the reason Jamie's dead, you know that?" The angry man was clenching and unclenching his fists. He was going to take a swing, Olivia was sure.

Peter said, "I thought that was the depression and drug addiction. It's fine if you want to blame me."

The man said, "Fuck you, you condescending shithead liar," and did finally throw a punch. Olivia wasn't surprised Peter didn't even try to dodge. She pulled the angry man back as Peter staggered back against the bar.

Peter was touching his split lip as he stood up. He said, "Let him go," to Olivia. The man stomped out. The bartender glared at both of them. Peter downed the rest of his cognac in one gulp. He took Olivia's arm and walked them out.

"You're going to explain that," Olivia said.

"Absolutely," Peter said. "After we get to the hotel."

15 minutes later, Peter was holding ice to his jaw. Olivia said, "So you aren't the reason Jamie is dead."

"I'm probably partially responsible for him killing himself, but I bet Dr. Felton would argue with me about that." Peter moved the ice further up his cheek and winced.

"When I was 21 I was in love with Jamie, and no pun intended, even went straight for him. I actually spent 6 months earning a honest living. We were living together and I had a stable address and a phone number you could reach me at. Which is how Walter was able to call me to tell me my mother died. I knew, even then, it had been suicide. I sat on that for a week, didn't tell anyone, then went out and got very very very drunk and brought a girl home, had sex with her, got caught just like I wanted and he threw me out. Jamie was always very insecure that I had had more, uh, relationships with women than men. So it was pretty much the worst thing I could do to him. It was an entire year later when he hung himself."

Peter moved the ice back to his lip. He looked up at her, clearly waiting for her to say something.

"Am I supposed to be surprised about the men?" Olivia smiled.

Peter had a weak smile. He said, "Of course not, you did research."

"I actually did. When you decided to stay with us, with Fringe, back at the beginning, I realized I needed to know a lot more about your shady past. So yes, I did research. There's an Interpol agent who really hates you."

Peter nodded. "He thinks I killed that guy in Hong Kong. I had sex with him and he was pretty average in bed, frankly, but that's no reason to kill someone."

Olivia thought briefly about the other Olivia. Then she said, "But you know who killed him."

Peter held his hand up and made a circle, like he was saying "yes and?"

"Agent Porter really wanted to convince me you were some sort of bisexual black widow," Olivia said. She sat down next to Peter on the bed.

"That's a pretty hilarious description to use for me. I've killed five people in my life that I know of, and I didn't have sex with any of them," he said. "This is a disturbing conversation."

"Five people?"

"David Robert Jones, who I think I can count, Joe Falls," Peter said with a flash of sadness.

"Who are the three others?"

Peter looked down. "I didn't shoot them or strangle them, but I was responsible. You remember, that thing we didn't talk about in Iraq."

Olivia rubbed his neck. He said, "I guess I'll get to add a few billion when I get in that machine."

"You don't know that," Olivia said.

"No," Peter said. "It's happened over and over again in the same way, but this time will be different."

Olivia took the ice from Peter's hand and kissed his unbruised cheek. She said, "You were in love when you were 21." She said, "You could have told me you were bi."

Peter frowned. "I did. I told her. She was making a joke about blowjobs. If I'd known you knew that would have been another clue I missed." Peter said, "She was totally okay with it, just a little surprised. I wonder if that got passed on to my father."

Olivia felt small. She said, "So you didn't tell me because you told her?"

"I didn't tell you because it didn't come up," Peter said. "When do we ever talk about our exes? Previous relationships? Before tonight, I mean."

"You and Astrid talk about it since the day you met," Olivia said. "I'm sorry, that sounds petty."

Peter looked away. He said, "It wasn't the first day. It was more like the first month. She was talking about a gay bar in New York, I said I'd been there. It came up in conversation. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you."

"I know," she said. "I know." She sighed. "I don't know why it bothers me." She stood up and got rid of the ice in the bathroom. "Okay. I wasn't in love when I was 21. I was dating a professor, he dumped me when he thought he might be up for tenure."

"What a dick," Peter said.

Olivia got undressed and they got in bed together. She snuggled up to him. "I love you," she said.

He pulled her even closer.

!

Peter sat and decided that today the painting was a chemical reaction. Dr. Felton said, "How are things going with Olivia?"

"Fine," he said.

"Please be more descriptive," she said. Someday she would actually use an exasperated tone of voice and on that day, Peter would toast in victory.

"She continues to like me and enjoy having sex with me," Peter said.

"Do you think that will stop?"

"I sure hope not," Peter said.

"Would you deserve to have her stop liking you?"

Peter said, "Huh, you know, actually, I don't think so. Besides when I was fucking her double and that psychotic break, I've been good to her. She seemed a little upset that I never said I was bi to her. I think we talked that one out like adults."

"Are you being sincere?"

Peter said, "Can't you tell?"

Dr. Felton actually smiled. "I can tell, I wondered if you could."

Peter tried to decide which chemicals went into the reaction in the painting. He said, "I was being sincere. I do think I'm good to her, and for her."

"Do you think that's a change from when you first started coming here? That you think you're good for her?"

"You really want that win, don't you?" Peter smirked.

"I want you to recognize that you've made progress," Dr. Felton said. Her voice was still soothing.

"Fine, through the wonders of medication and your probing questions, I am at least 45% less full of self-destructive urges and 25% less likely to take responsibility for things I shouldn't."

She smiled again. "I enjoy our sessions, Peter, and I am being sincere."

!

Lincoln said, "This lube is amazing."

"I know," Liv said. She was on her back and Lincoln was thrusting inside her. With the new lube she'd bought in a recent trip to the Bronx. "Imagine how great it'll be when I'm fucking you."

Lincoln swore as he came, his face ridiculous and beautiful. He was out of it for at least a minute before he started touching her so she would come. Her orgasm was, as the package had promised, transcendental and sparkly. "I don't know how they get that sparkle in there, but wow."

"This is why I love science," Lincoln said. "Screw reversing the blight, make lube that gives your orgasm sparkle."

"I'm okay with it," Liv said, still feeling the high. "The blight is still there and we get to have great sex."

"I love your priorities," Lincoln said. He ran his hand down her chest to between her legs.

She said, "You really want me to get all set to fuck you, don't you?"

"I know you're going to make fun of me, but I think we need to do that tomorrow night," Lincoln said.

"I am going to make fun of you," Liv said. "Tomorrow, in front of Charlie and give him some to use with Bug Lady."

"Make sure Broyles is there," Lincoln said. "Also, at some point we have to admit her name is Mona."

"Not tonight," Liv said.

!

Peter was late to the crime scene with the floating bodies because of Dr. Felton. He had asked for the early session the night before, not realizing dead bodies would be flying away. So he knew it was actually his fault but he hardly wanted to admit to Olivia or Walter what had drove him to beg for a chance to talk to his shrink.

"Why didn't you tell me touching the machine was reviving your memories?" Dr. Felton sounded concerned, not irritated, so Peter couldn't count it as a win.

He was slouched in the chair enough he had to look up to make eye contact with Dr. Felton, and she loved eye contact. He said, "I didn't want to."

"What so concerned you about what you remembered last night that you called me?"

Peter looked away and described the memory that had surfaced of his attempt to drown himself and his mother saving him in Reiden Lake.

"You think of this as you attempting to drown yourself?"

He sighed. "I was 7, I think I genuinely thought I would make it back to my world, but I was hardly an idiot. I would have done anything to get home."

"What concerns you about this?"

He really hated her calm voice. "How much it must have scared my mother."

"You meant her no harm," Dr. Felton said.

"That's not true, I didn't, I did care but I honestly felt like a hostage. I wanted my own mother. Until, I guess, I realized that wouldn't happen and gave up," Peter said.

"Do you think this is something you should feel guilty about?"

That tone of voice was as close to Dr. Felton would get to calling him stupid. He said, "Of course not. It was just something I couldn't stop thinking about, it was on a loop in my mind over and over again. Isn't that the sort of thing you're dying to help me with?"

Dr. Felton smiled. "Yes," she said. "Are there other memories you've gotten from the machine you wanted to talk about?"

No, Peter thought. But he told her anyway, the endless parade of Peters in his head stepping into that machine and their failure to live or do much more than destroy.

He did appreciate Dr. Felton's ability to surprise him. Her first reaction was to say, "What do you think the machine is trying to communicate to you with these visions? Do you think it's communicating to you at all?"

"Good question," Peter said. "It's incredibly complex and very very old. It's wired to me, so apparently whoever made it knew I would come along."

"How do you know it's very old?"

"Because the pieces were buried centuries ago," Peter said.

"When you've tried to distract me from asking about your real issues, you've told me that the Observers didn't experience time the same way we do, and you've said Walter created a time machine. Doesn't it follow that the machine doesn't have to be very old at all? It could be from the future, where they already know you because you designed it. Or your fathers or your children."

He sat up and leaned forward. "That's a very good point." Then he sat back. "But what does that even mean?"

"Advanced machine from the future that wants to communicate to you could have a point. A meaning behind what you're learning," Dr. Felton said. "Of course, none of my PhDs are in Physics, so I'm just spitballing."

"You're apparently smarter than Walter or me," Peter said.

"You're both very personally involved," Dr. Felton said. "You know as well as I do that that can blind us to essential points."

Peter rubbed his chin. He said, "How do I stop seeing my mother when I was 7?"

Dr. Felton offered him a number of techniques and ways to think. She also wrote him another prescription that he was supposed to take sparingly for very specific cases. She only allowed him 5 pills. He said, "I just need one pill to figure out the formula and whip up my own batch if I want to kill myself with it. I don't want to kill myself, but just prescribing 5 is no way to stop me."

"I prefer you think of it as last resort," Dr. Felton said.

It was last resort enough that Peter had the pills filled and took one before heading to the crime scene. He was expecting zombie calm and slow thinking but instead he was actually able to focus.

He sipped his quad latte as he walked up to where Olivia and Walter were holding down a floating corpse. "Isn't this amazing?" Walter grinned at him.

"Definitely intriguing," Peter said. Broyles came over and gave them more details. Peter said, "I'll go back with Walter to the lab. I can't be too reckless in the lab, right?" There was no bite in his tone at all. Bless the last resort pill.

He and Walter waited to see when the body would stop floating. It took over two hours and then suddenly the corpse was incredibly heavy. It was a strain for Walter and Peter to get it on the gurney. Walter's amazement had already turned into a kind of frustrated irritation. Peter would throw out insane ideas and Walter would ignore him. Or wave his hands like he was literally batting the idea away.

"What's wrong? What's really wrong, Walter, you're usually not so obtuse," Peter said, using the word obtuse just to irritate his father.

Walter glared at him. "This makes no sense. I can't make sense of it. I can't make sense of the machine or how to keep you out of it. Our world will soon go the way of the other side, son, and what will we do then?"

"You can't keep me out of the machine," Peter said. "I think it's a solution to the decay and wormholes. It's one solution."

"I refuse to believe that," Walter said.

"Since when did you refuse to believe anything?" Peter smiled.

"I won't let you die again, Peter," Walter said.

"Isn't that how we got into all this in the first place?" He reached over and gripped Walter's shoulder. "Come on, you can do this. You're smarter than your alternate, you can make leaps he never can."

Walter smiled. "You're very kind, son."

By the time Olivia and Astrid came back with their grim discovery of additional bodies, Walter was obsessed again and focused. Peter had turned to look at the schematics of the machine, trying to think of what he would do, if he had designed it. Maybe he had. More likely it was Walter but maybe Walter had the first thought and let Peter do the engineering.

Eventually Peter told Walter he needed to go. He let Olivia drive. She said, "Why did you make an appointment with Dr. Felton this morning?"

"For fun," Peter said.

Olivia gave him an exasperated look. Peter said, "I remembered something, I couldn't stop thinking about it. In the way like, groundhog day in my head, an endless loop."

Olivia said, "It's not now, though."

"It's like Dr. Felton is good at her job," Peter said. "Walter seems obsessed with the case, thank God."

"I was surprised how long Walter was obsessed with that healing formula," Olivia said.

Peter looked at her quizzically. She said, "Usually Walter's into things like combining animals into monsters, or mind control, or growing soldiers."

Peter nodded. "He doesn't generally think of the healing sciences."

"How is that coming?"

Peter said, "Walter tried to visit the doctor in prison, it went badly. Nina went and did much better, of course."

"Massive Dynamic is about to revolutionize medicine," Olivia said quietly, almost mocking in tone.

"Walter will put pressure on Nina so Massive Dynamic doesn't hide it away to maximize their profits. If he doesn't, I will," he said. For as long as he could.

!

At 4:30 AM Liv stood at the ambered edge where Dr. Tuckerson was clearly visible, 2 feet in. She carefully got close to the amber to try to see more details. There were easier ways to do this.

"Agent Dunham," she heard from behind her. She turned to see Broyles.

"Sir," she said with a question in her voice.

"Checking that the doctor is still here?" He glanced at the amber.

"Yes, sir," she said. "I was worried someone would drag him out of here to get him to help. Lots of people would like to be able to use mind control."

He walked closer to the edge, a few feet from where she stood. She wondered if that was a better angle. She said, "Though I guess we already have that, don't we?"

Broyles looked at her, his gaze steady. "Do we?"

"What else do you call giving that other woman all my memories? That's a kind of mind control," she said.

"It didn't work," Broyles said.

"She's more the exception than the rule, I bet," Liv said.

"You have a high opinion of Olivia Dunhams," Broyles said, a little friendliness in his voice.

Liv shrugged and smiled. Broyles said, "You didn't know they would do that." He looked back at the amber. "It took them a number of attempts to get it to work. Even then, it didn't take for long enough. I don't think they'll try again."

"Maybe they need to refine the technology," Liv said. "I hope they don't, sir."

"You're more worried about this mind control," Broyles said, his eyes still on the amber. "Are you afraid the Secretary plans to melt his son's brain?"

She nodded, even though he wasn't looked at her. He knew her answer anyway. "All those mornings waking up in his arms, you probably wished you could just stay and not even come back here. Maybe just for a second, but the wish was there."

She said, "Those memory machines are pretty good." She was suddenly afraid of her own commanding officer.

He said, "Not as good as you." He was looking at her now, his face almost friendly again. "I was guessing, nothing like that showed up in your report or the memory extraction. As much as they can read that sort of thing."

She breathed again in relief. She said, "I didn't know that they would do that to her."

"I know," Broyles said. "The Secretary's son choked you nearly to death and shot you twice. You know why? Why he shot you?"

She shook her head. Broyles said, "He said it at the end of horror movies, the monster always get up again."

"I know he's not my biggest fan," she said, staring back at the amber.

"He hates his father more," Broyles said. "But you think we should find a better way than using mind control on him."

"Don't you?" She was tired of dancing around this. She was still hurting about Peter, she realized. Out of nowhere. Lincoln was waiting for her at home. She should be there. But protecting Peter wasn't about Peter. It was about the whole universe. It was about doing the right thing.

Broyles said, "I do, Agent Dunham."

"I promise not to tell," Liv said. She didn't make it sound like a joke.

"Thank you," he said. He stepped closer to her and said, "You should get home before Agent Lee wakes up."

She thought there was some kind of sorry in there. She nodded and walked briskly to her car. As she looked over her shoulder before backing out, she saw Broyles was still at the amber.

The problem was the Secretary. He didn't see any solution but his damn Machine. He didn't see anything except getting Peter in there. Liv wasn't a scientist but she was sure there had to be another way than destruction. She wished the answer was hitting a bullseye, that at least she could do.

She tried sneaking back in, but Lincoln was already sitting on the couch with tea, watching the door. "Do you have a boyfriend who only meets you at 4 am? This is the third time this week," he said.

"You're not going to ask about a girlfriend?" She smiled.

"That's next on the list," he said.

She sat down next to him. Under the blanket on his lap he was naked. She said, "I saw Broyles, actually."

"Unexpected, but I see the attraction," Lincoln said.

"Who doesn't?" She thought about the pulling the blanket off. She liked his dick. She had seen dicks she would never want to spend more than a night looking at. The sweet boy she'd loved when she was 16, he had had an ugly dick. He probably still did. She smiled because now she was thinking about dicks.

Lincoln said, "Where were you? I guess it was funny."

"No, I was thinking you have a pretty penis. I like that about you," she said, smiling at him.

"Thank you," he said. "Answer now, please, Liv."

She sighed. "I went to check that Dr. Tuckerson is still in the amber. I've checked three times this week. I'm worried the Secretary is going to drag him out and make him tell how the mind control works. The guy we caught, he didn't know how to do it more than once. So now they're working to replicate it. I think it's a bad idea."

"I agree," Lincoln said. "I could check on how they're doing for you, I know a guy."

"You know a guy?"

"I know a lot of guys," he said. "Pretty penis, really?"

"Yeah," she said. "Let me see it."

!

Peter fell asleep as soon as they got home. Olivia was left to pick up and hang his jacket on the back of the door. She checked the pockets reflexively. She used to have a lot of reasons, things about his capacity to damage himself, the carelessness he'd developed when they first moved in. These days he didn't carry soldering irons or makeshift weapons. She did find a prescription bottle from Dr. Felton with only 4 pills in it. She put it back and made herself dinner instead of googling his new prescription.

She was still watching TV when her phone buzzed. It was Astrid. "Walter says he knows where the guy will strike. And he says we absolutely have to capture him and question him."

"I'll get Peter," Olivia said.

Peter was groggy until they arrived at the museum. Then he snapped into alert and ready. Olivia and Astrid apprehended the doctor. Broyles and Peter were inside trying to stop his latest victim. Her stomach dropped as she saw Peter jump to tackle the floating man down back to the ground. They crashed in an explosion of glass. Olivia's grip on her gun tightened. She felt useless. Peter stood up easily and kept a foot on top of the man.

It was another hour locking away the doctor, Peter making the arrangements for the floating boy to go to Massive Dynamic and Broyles locating the doctor's son.

Olivia stood back while Walter talked in a low voice to the doctor. She said to Peter, "That was pretty reckless."

"My amazing tackle?" He actually smiled at her. "Let's be honest, Olivia, I would have done that two years ago before I was 'too dangerous' to be out in the field." The air quotes were implied in his tone. "Too fun not to try,"

"True," she said.

Walter walked by them, muttering and clearly shaken. Peter caught up to him. Olivia heard Walter say, "It's happening. The decay is happening. The law of physics are no longer constants."

Peter looked back at Olivia. He said, "I'm going to take Walter home. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Of course," she said.

She thought of the many things she could do with the apartment all to herself. She hadn't slept alone since her out of town trip. She could stretch out. She could watch TV Peter didn't like. It wasn't very much fun. She was used to him.

She did take an extra long bath.

!

Peter woke up confused, like a bad flashback. He was only waking up in Walter's house that used to be his as well, confined to the couch. He rubbed his face and got up. Walter was already sitting in the kitchen, writing in a notebook. "Hello, Peter, I had an idea. We should get breakfast. Why don't we drive to Quincy, I know an excellent diner that would be open now."

"Good morning, Walter," Peter said. "What was your idea about?" He texted Olivia to see if she was up and how she felt about diners in Quincy.

"How to destroy a universe," Walter said. "I've been considering your idea that the Machine was made in the near future by you and I, and I think it's a good one, son. If I can figure out how to make that weapon, maybe we can reverse engineer or look for signs of the paths my thoughts will take."

"We can find the path to make it not be a weapon," Peter said. Olivia texted him back that she was up now. She didn't mind the diner. She'd pick them up. Did he want anything? He texted back clean clothes and pills. "Olivia will be here in ten minutes to take us to your diner, Walter. Why don't you put on some clothes besides that apron?"

Walter's ideas were predictably off the wall and ridiculous. Naturally, Peter feared they were also correct. They argued with each other and called each other names. Walter even brought out his "If you knew what those commies were doing back in the 70s, you wouldn't think that" argument. Peter hated that argument. Walter had no idea what the Soviet experiments had yielded. The results had all disappeared. Olivia ate her pancakes and had three cups of coffee while she waited for them.

When they had slowed a little, Olivia said, "So our world is falling apart like the other side."

"Yes," Walter said. "It's really started now. It will probably accelerate much faster on this side as both sides hurtle towards their eventual end."

"What about amber?" Olivia leaned forward. "I remember most of the protocols."

Walter frowned. "Amber works on holes and soft spots, it won't stop the eventual blight and the environmental damage."

Olivia said, "When you say it's happening, how long do we have?"

"He has no idea," Peter said.

"That is not true, Peter," Walter said. He didn't volunteer a deadline, either.

"So we focus on understanding the Machine and if it can be used as something other than a weapon," Peter said.

Olivia sighed. "I heard all of that."

Peter squeezed her hand under the table.

!

"Where do you see us in five years?" Lincoln turned on his side and looked at her like he really meant the question.

"Dead, like everyone else," Liv said, without sadness. She turned out the light in her bedroom. Every year is a gift. She wondered if she had stolen the right piece of the device or convinced Peter to come home, if they would have more than five years. Probably not.

"Two years," Lincoln said. "Don't say dying."

"We're always dying," Liv said, smiling. "I don't think about our future."

"What if you did?"

She patted his hip. "What if sheep flew and came back through the clouds?" She didn't understand him, sometimes.

"I'd like more than five years with you," he said.

She was humbled. She hadn't expected him to admit that. She always ended up with men who had more courage than she did.

It was probably time to change that. She said, "That would be really nice."

He shifted towards her and she leaned towards him and they were kissing. They'd had extremely athletic sex already that night. Liv could still feel it, a nice ache between her legs. She bet Lincoln could, too. This kiss was different. As he drew back, she said, "I love you."

He kissed her, a light peck on the lips. He said, "I knew you'd say it first."

"You're such an asshole," Liv said, laughing.

"You love this asshole," Lincoln said.

"And you love me, say it," she said, grabbing at his hair.

"Ow," he said. "I do love you, now let go."

"No," she said, pulling him close enough to kiss again.

!

Broyles was the one to show them Dana Gray's plummet onto the car. All five of them stood around the car, Walter muttering and shaking his head as he directed Peter to get samples. Olivia tried to think of how they could measure if this had been decay again. She'd explained the protocols to Walter a million times, it felt like. He hadn't focused enough to try to recreate the devices they used on the other side.

She was thinking of the other side, how Lincoln would wave that thing in the air, when Lincoln walked up. She nearly jumped and drew her gun. Broyles said, "Agent Lee has some information about Dana Gray."

Broyles and Peter seemed to understand why Olivia was spooked immediately. Walter was oblivious to everything and Astrid probably hadn't memorized Olivia's debrief. This side's Lincoln Lee favored nicely cut suits and expensive looking coats along with glasses.

Peter was listening with interest, she noted. Perked up even. She forced herself to pay attention. "We have to examine this back at the lab, we have to go back to the lab," Walter said. "Bring that Kennedy fellow if you must, but we must go, Peter."

Olivia said, "Okay," and steered Walter to her car. "Peter," she said, glancing at Astrid's car. Peter nodded and turned to Agent Lee.

"I didn't see any signs of decay," Walter said. "But I must examine the blood to be sure. It could be anything. It could be the start of everything coming to an end."

"Walter, we'll figure it out," she said. "You'll figure it out."

"Will I? My brain doesn't work as well, Peter barely talks to me, all my scientists at Belly's company can't figure a single thing out, I will not figure it out," Walter said, his voice rising.

"Walter, calm down," Olivia said.

"He wouldn't even drive with me," Walter said.

"That was me," Olivia said. "That Agent, Lincoln Lee, I worked with his double on the other side. When I thought I was her. I still have her memories." She looked over at Walter who was still blinking furiously. "It's disconcerting. So I had Peter drive with him."

"You didn't say anything," Walter said. "Oh, of course not, the language of love, I should have known. At least as the universe falls apart around us, there is that one consolation."

"Glad to help," Olivia said.

When they got back to the lab, Walter immediately ran to his equipment and Peter and Astrid followed him. She found herself with Agent Lee. She felt like she was seeing double. He said, "What is this place?"

"The kind of place where we find women who won't stay dead," Olivia said. She forced herself to relax. "We work on unexplained phenomena."

"Like the old x files?" Lincoln managed to sound intensely skeptical. Olivia felt like a part of her brain was kicking into gear, like someone was speaking to her in German and she was translating without thinking.

"You're investigating a woman who keeps not dying, are you really questioning this?" She felt the smile on her face and thought it was the other's smile.

Peter called both of them over. He and Walter explained the magnetic quality of Dana Gray's blood. Lincoln looked nonplussed but still leapt right into the discussion. "How about Lincoln and I investigate this —" Peter said.

"Great," Olivia said.

After they left Astrid said, "You look a little upset."

"This McKinley person is the double of an agent Olivia worked with when she was kidnapped and brainwashed over to the other side," Walter said absently.

Astrid nodded and looked at Olivia kindly. Olivia said, "So what should we do here?"

!

Peter liked working with Lincoln, it was like working with Olivia in a number of ways. They found Dana Gray's apartment after only two stops at other hotlines. He and Lincoln tried to figure out the woman's motives. They heard about the gun suicide and went there.

They talked to the lab and got everyone's input. Dana's motives became clear. Peter spoke to the woman, but made no headway. He and Walter talked through the math on the phone to figure out which train she was on.

"Olivia and Broyles are meeting us there," Peter said as he got in Lincoln's car.

"I'm not sure I really believe any of this. She can't die because of magnetism? She's trying to hitch a ride with other souls as they die? This really isn't the weirdest thing you've worked on?"

Peter stopped himself from laughing. "It really isn't. It actually doesn't make my top ten."

"Okay, give me your top ten. You said my clearance had gone up, give me the list."

"I've never actually ordered them. There was the guy whose wife was dosed with a virus built on super syphilis, she had this unworldly blue eyes and she killed men she picked up at clubs to eat their spinal fluid. From their spine," Peter said. "She would bite it open."

"Unworldly blue eyes?" Lincoln had a bit of a smirk.

"I don't mean in a oh, she's so hot way, I mean they glowed, they were neon light blue," Peter said.

"That one is weirder than this, maybe," Lincoln said.

"Computer virus that turned people's brains into mush that then leaked out of their ears, nose and eyes."

Lincoln looked at him. "But you caught that one, right?"

"Yeah, you can safely surf porn without running into that virus," Peter said. Peter shook his head. "Okay, there was the man whose father had genetically engineered him so he was able to secrete a paralyzing gel and he ate people. He lived underground, he burrowed and made holes. And he almost ate Olivia's shoulder and the rest of her and me when a car fell on him, cutting him in half."

"Genetically engineered babies?" Lincoln was smiling at him now, looking confused.

"In the guy's defense, his wife had lupus and he had the idea to help his unborn son survive the pregnancy. He probably didn't anticipate the living underground, burrowing and eating people effect."

"Hard to plan that far ahead," Lincoln said. "I don't believe you."

"You do believe me," Peter said. "Okay, here's another one that's top 10: a genetically engineered monster made from bat, gila monster, and wasp DNA among others. It was set free by these animal rights activists, it killed all of them and planted its babies in, in a friend of ours," Peter said. He thought about Charlie all the time. "But we got the babies to die."

"And you have six more that are weirder than Dana Gray?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. He described them to Lincoln while they drove to the place where the train would be stopped.

Peter and Broyles went one way, Olivia took Lincoln as they started looking for the woman. He and Broyles ran towards the bomb. Lincoln and Olivia were already there. Lincoln said, "She's finally dead." He sounded mournful.

"She saved the people on the train," Olivia said.

"After not saving them," Peter said. Olivia had had an odd tone in her voice so he stepped closer to her, his hand brushing hers. "But she did right in the end."

The wrap-up took longer than Peter expected, so he got into Olivia's car and sat in the front seat. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until Olivia woke him up to tell him to put on his seat belt. "I have good news for you," Olivia said. "I talked to Broyles and he's going to see about transferring Lincoln to our division."

"Is he up for moving from, ugh, was it Hartford?"

"He seemed to be," she said.

"You're okay with that?"

She pressed her lips together. She said, "I felt there were times when I was walking like her, smiling like her. But that will go away and we can always use good agents around."

"You don't have to," Peter said.

"I don't want to break your heart," Olivia said, a smirk in her voice.

"Break my heart?"

"I think you flirted more with me when we first started working together but only by a little," Olivia said.

Peter smiled. "I got something better at home."

"We're dating, not dead, right?"

Peter said, "Are you upset? I'm sorry. I actually didn't realize I was —"

"You weren't coming on too strong, and I'm not upset," Olivia said.

"You're a little upset, but not with me," Peter said. "Feeling her almost take you over has to be awful."

"It isn't fun," Olivia said. "But it got better. It'll be fine."

!

Peter took Astrid out to breakfast. "I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu," Astrid said. "I hope you're ready to pay."

"I'm ready to pay," Peter said. "I just wanted to check in. Now that we're adding another agent and Walter is even more nutty."

"You're not using me to check on Olivia?" Astrid had a sly smile.

"No," Peter said. "I'm really not. We talk. I know we're good."

"I'm good, too," Astrid said. "Wait, you have an ulterior motive. I know it."

"I don't," Peter said. "Really. I wanted to make sure we're good. I feel like I've maybe been distant with you."

The waiter came by and Astrid ordered the two most expensive things on the menu, and the priciest coffee. Peter ordered waffles and orange juice. Astrid said, "You haven't been distant that I've noticed. Were you thinking about being distant?"

"Olivia was upset we had been talking -"

"Peter, she's not upset anymore," Astrid said. "Don't make this into a thing."

Peter smiled and looked at his hands. "You're right, I know. I've turned into an idiot."

"An idiot who buys me breakfast," Astrid said. "No complaints here."

"How are you still single?"

Astrid made a face at him. "Don't flirt with me."

"That was not flirting," Peter said.

"Yeah, that's true. I've already seen the serious Peter Bishop flirt twice."

"Look, we secretly think Broyles is unbelievably sexy, but I don't think I flirted that much," Peter said. "Yes, I know who you're talking about. "

"You're right about Broyles," Astrid said.

"I actually talked to him yesterday, I think there was a lot of sexual tension," Peter said.

"About you being less crazy now?"

"I just wanted to see if he thought I'd made enough progress I could leave the state with Olivia," Peter said. "I think I was a little whiny, frankly."

"Are you finally sane enough to go to Iowa? Because we leave the state all the time, New York City, you know, in New York state," Astrid said. "Weren't you born in New York?"

"Technically -"

Astrid waved her hand. "Up by Reiden Lake," she said.

"Yes, that's where Peter Bishop on this side was born," Peter said. "Oddly enough, my mother told me I was born in Cambridge."

"Is your birthday not actually your birthday? That would suck," Astrid said.

"No, same day, same year, just different states," Peter said. "Probably different times of the day, so my star chart has never been accurate."

"You don't believe in Astrology," Astrid said.

"I had to fake it for three months," Peter said. "Obviously before I knew about my different birth times."

"So, Broyles said," Astrid said.

"He said it was a case by case basis. He was pleased that I'm making progress and that I'm taking therapy seriously," Peter said. "When he said it, it sounded sexy."

"I bet," Astrid said. "You should have gotten this lobster thing, it's fantastic."

"What are you going to do with your other breakfast?"

"Eat it for lunch," Astrid said. "Do you feel like you're making progress?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. I didn't think I was that sick to begin with."

"You were," Astrid said.

"Hey," Peter said.

"You nearly killed someone," Astrid said.

"About four hours after we had sex, too," Peter said. "But look how casual I am about it now."

"You don't have to be with me," Astrid said.

"I don't like to show weakness," Peter said.

"You're not a con man anymore," Astrid said.

"I feel like I could answer that in a way that makes me sound really cool but instead I am going to have some of your lobster," Peter said.

"Now that I have you without your father about to butt in, I was wondering - why do we just interact with this one? Walter always talks about infinite branches happening every time we decide to order lobster instead waffles."

"Actually, don't ask Walter about that, he'll try to answer and then he won't be able to and he'll get incredibly high and he'll be useless for days," Peter said. "So, as you might have gathered, we have no idea. You're right, it's a puzzler."

"The answer is you two geniuses have no idea," Astrid said. "Good to know."

Peter held up his hand. "Hey, Brandon, Nina, and Bell aren't sure either. It's not just us two geniuses. Also, there are theories."

"Oh, good, theories," Astrid said.

"One, how do we know we haven't interacted with a third, fourth, fifth universe? When Olivia had her first flashes two years ago, it was similar but not the same as what we think of the other side. That universe had had cortexiphan trials, so she was able to see what happened to the twins. What we think of as the other side never had cortexiphan trials. So where did Olivia go?" Peter had finished his orange juice so he stopped a waitress and asked for Astrid's fancy coffee.

"She went to a third universe. Wait, why didn't they have cortexiphan trials? Because that Bell died," Astrid said.

"Believe it or not, my father is opposed to testing on children. He told me and that, I think, wasn't any kind of manipulation," Peter said.

"Huh," Astrid said. "Did you tell Walter that?"

"I've never hated him that much," Peter said. "Remember Rebecca Kibner? She told Walter she used to see people who glimmered for years after his experiments. But no one was coming over from the other side before the late 90s, and by no one, I mean the first one was probably Newton. So who was Rebecca Kibner seeing in 1986?"

"People from the other other side," Astrid said. "Or the other other other side."

"How did those people Rebecca Kibner saw get to here without causing the kind of destruction we saw on the other side? When Bell and Walter started seeing the other side, why didn't they see the sides where those people came from?"

Astrid said, "No wonder Walter gets super high to think about this." She finished her lobster. "When Olivia flashed over to the, the third side, there was an Olivia there. Could that Olivia cross the same as ours?"

"Good question," Peter said. "Here's another - if there's a universe where they can go from there to here without setting off catastrophic consequences, do they know how to fix what happened between 'our' sides? How do we even contact them? Why haven't they contacted us?"

"Maybe they're the Observers," Astrid said. "But Broyles says the Observers have disappeared, at least from Massive Dynamic's tracking."

"Every theoretical model we run shows that the eventual collapse of our two universes will have reverberations for other universes. So wherever these glimmer people are coming from, you'd think they'd want to help us," Peter said.

"Maybe they're assholes," Astrid said. "Or maybe Rebecca Kibner was having acid flashbacks."

"But we know Olivia went to a third side," Peter said. "And Rebecca Kibner saw the future nearly perfectly."

"Walter and Bell first saw the other side because they took tons of acid. Maybe that's why they only saw the one other side, you need different drugs to see the other ones," Astrid said.

"Walter had that theory once," Peter said. "I decided not to let him test it. Maybe when all this is over."

"Clearly the other side and our side are linked. Do you think it's because of the First People? Or what you and Walter keep calling the Future People?"

"At some point, we think, some future someone went back in time about a million years and planted all those pieces which is why we have them and the other side has them," Peter said. "But the third side would have them, too. A lot of sides would have them. I think when Bell pulled Olivia over he sort of calibrated her to that side."

"What do you think happened to that Peter on the third side?"

Peter shuddered. "I don't want to think about it. I know everyone else has to deal with alternates, mine is dead and buried." He sipped his delicious coffee. "The third side is probably one that diverged after the cortexiphan trials. So it stands to reason the third side is linked to some fourth side where that Peter was kidnapped from."

"Ugh," Astrid said. "The more I think about it, the more my head hurts."

"You're a real scientist now," Peter said. "I think it's something we think about after we fix our current problems."

"Good plan," Astrid said.


	7. what it's like when mistakes go unmade

Lincoln's first case started with 3 dead bodies, only one of which had died a particularly gruesome death.

"This guy's brain melted. Are we sure it's not that computer virus?" Lincoln said, as the corpses were wheeled in.

Walter looked puzzled and then said, "Ah. No. It is definitely not the same. In that case, the brains leaked out through the nose and ears, this man's brains burned so hot it became gaseous and then liquid and drained down his spine." Walter pulled off the top of the man's skull. "See?"

Lincoln said, "Okay, I believe you."

Olivia noticed Lincoln wincing at the sight. Peter looked up from his examination of the other two dead bodies. "These two, on the other hand, died of perfectly ordinary bullets. Fired by gas brain, right?"

"Mr. Ottoli. Warren Ottoli shot his wife and sister when all three were out to breakfast," Olivia said. "The witnesses said he stood up and said nothing as he shot both women. One witness said his movements were jerky, like he was being controlled. That witness also suggested it might be alien abduction syndrome."

Lincoln was the only one who smiled at that. Olivia said, "Then Ottoli collapsed. And after examination, they brought all the bodies to us."

Lincoln said, "They're also bringing us Ottoli's computer and other things from his house."

Peter said, "Did he live with his sister? I assume he lived with his wife."

"Never assume," Walter cackled.

"He did live with his wife and his sister," Olivia said, looking over the file. "He worked for a company that mediates billing disputes."

Peter said, "Any link in his file as to why his brain melted down his spine?"

"Nothing. We're waiting on his medical records," Lincoln said.

They spent the day examining everything they'd received from Ottoli's residence and workplace. Olivia took the copied files from his laptop home with her on a external drive.

"What are you looking at?" Peter glanced at Olivia's laptop screen and the many many tiny squares of thrusting and pumping. "That looks like porn."

"It is," Olivia said, shutting her laptop. "From Ottoli's computer. Just tons and tons of pictures and videos. I'm checking to see if they're too big or have odd metadata. I can't take it anymore. If I have to look at one more woman in thigh highs getting fucked in the ass, I will, I don't know, do something to my eyes."

Peter took the laptop from her. He said, "I bet there's a video here where something gets in a someone's eyes."

She glared at him. He opened the laptop and said, "Show me where you stopped. I'll take the bullet for you."

"The 500th woman wearing thigh highs and heels," Olivia said. She glanced at Peter and the tiny movement of his mouth. She said, "Really?"

"What?" Peter scrolled down. "Tell me when to stop. And why you're so opposed to thigh highs."

"I've never worn them," Olivia said. "I'm not opposed, I just don't get it. It's the hose, right? Women in hose but still naked."

"I didn't say anything," Peter said. Olivia just looked at him. "Tell me where to stop," he repeated.

"That one, that was the last one I could look at," Olivia said. "I'm going to wear that outfit tomorrow."

"Please?" He smiled at her. "But not in that pink, you'd look better in black." He stood up. "I'm taking this to the bedroom."

She sat back on the couch and read files for a half hour. It wasn't working, she couldn't find the threads.

Peter called her from the bedroom. She went in and he turned the laptop around to face her. "Look at this," he said, pointing to a drawing on the screen.

She swallowed and made a face at the drawing. Peter said, "It's case related. Look what that woman in the corner right is holding."

Olivia looked. "That's, that is a tentacle dildo. That's exactly what they looked like."

"Exactly," Peter said. "If you just look at the art, it's all the same artist, and I bet that's not the only thing from the other side in them."

She sat down next to him and looked at the art he'd selected. "You're right. How does that happen?" She looked closer at the five pictures. "This is all the other side. I mean, the shoes and the phones - look, that guy still has his ear cuff on."

"He looks happy. Maybe he was just drawn that way," Peter said.

She cupped his obvious erection through his underwear. "Please tell me this wasn't about the tentacle dildo."

"Hey, I looked at porn for half an hour. Set aside your issues with wardrobe, ignore all the ones where the women look like they're not enjoying having their faces shoved into some guy's ass, it's generally attractive people having sex."

"I don't have issues with the wardrobe," Olivia said. "I just don't find it hot." She tugged Peter's underwear down.

He pulled her by the waist so she was kneeling on the bed, between his legs. He started getting her pants off her. He sat forward enough to kiss her jaw. He murmured, "You prefer more realistic choices? Wrinkled slacks on the floor, wet panties that aren't thongs?"

"I don't like to only watch," she said. She unbuttoned her shirt. She shifted enough to get out of her pants now that Peter had pushed them down to her knees. She threw her shirt and pants somewhere off the bed.

All that porn, she thought, but they ended up having sex with Peter on top in the missionary position. Excellent sex, the kind that made her wish again she and Peter had gotten their shit together so much sooner so they could have done this more often in her lifetime.

She dreamed Peter died in the machine, disintegrating in front of her eyes.

!

"This is so intriguing," Walter said. Peter kept his eyes firmly on the porn drawings and tried to block any movement Walter made out of his peripheral vision. Peter really didn't want to know. Lincoln looked over Walter's shoulder and said, "Whoa."

"I have to show this to Nina," Walter said.

Peter said, "Really, Walter?"

"Yes," Walter said. "I'm trying to make sure the company continues to be financially successful and I am quite sure that tentacle dildo would be very remunerative."

Peter said, "More than the treatment that keeps people alive when their heart has been removed?"

"Probably not," Walter said. "But you never know, the sexual urges of the modern soul can definitely be quite powerful."

"It looks Hieronymus Bosch-like," Lincoln said.

"I was thinking more Where's Waldo, only very detailed," Astrid said.

Walter looked around at the three of them and then back to the drawing.

"No one's enacting that for you, Walter," Peter said.

"No, no, I was just trying to picture it, see if it was feasible. Is this a scene our erotic artist saw for him or herself? Is he listening in on someone's dreams from the other side?" Walter said. "How did Mr. Ottoli acquire these?"

Astrid said, "I did an image search but nothing's coming up yet. He had software on his computer, he could have drawn this."

"But there was no sign of any other artwork on his computer or in his house, not that he'd done himself," Lincoln said.

"If you're drawing detailed orgies, you just don't draw 5 of those and then nothing else," Peter said.

"Unless someone else drew them and took over Mr. Ottoli's body," Walter said.

"Or it was art therapy," Astrid said. "Maybe?"

"What would he be in therapy for?" Lincoln held up one of the drawings and squinted at the lower corner.

"We know what he was in therapy for," Peter said. "Clinical depression."

Astrid said, "Drawing orgies is a treatment for clinical depression?"

"More effective than most anti-depressants," Walter grumbled with a pointed glance at Peter. Peter glared at him until Walter looked away.

Then Walter said, "OH oh oh, I have an idea!" He walked briskly into the storeroom, humming.

!

Olivia had been searching for more art that included details from the other side. It was a slog. Lincoln came into her office and said, "Whoa," as soon as he saw her screen. Then, "Looking for more other side erotica?"

"No luck so far," Olivia said. "None at all."

"Walter had an idea and then he and Peter started talking about transcranial something. I decided I could better contribute by helping you," Lincoln said.

"I'm not sure you can, you've never been to the other side. No one's spent as much time there as I did," Olivia said.

"You could tell me things to look for. It sounds like you'd like to share the burden," Lincoln said. He listened to her describe the dildos, ear cuffs, and other things she'd seen he might look for. He nodded and started on his own search.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Olivia met his eyes and nodded. Lincoln said, "There seems to be some tension between Peter and Dr. Bishop on this issue of drugs. Prescription drugs."

Olivia leaned forward. She said, "Dr. Bishop was in St. Claire's for 17 years and he has a very low opinion of more traditional therapy approaches. Peter, you may have guessed, is taking anti-depressants as prescribed by his doctor."

Lincoln said, "I got the impression he was forced into that."

"Who gave you that impression?" Olivia frowned.

"Peter," Lincoln said.

Olivia shook her head. That sounded like Peter. Lincoln said, "Why was he forced into therapy, if you can tell me?"

"The real question is, what didn't get me forced into FBI therapy?" Peter breezed in and sat down next to Olivia. He smiled at Lincoln's blushing embarrassment.

"Sorry," Lincoln said.

Peter smiled again. He said, "So, we have something else to research."

"Thank God," Olivia said. She closed her browser completely and wiped her history. If only she could do the same to her mind.

"We believe Ottoli received transcranial magnetic stimulation to treat his depression. Walter thinks that's why his brains melted and probably why he went crazy," Peter said.

Lincoln asked the question so Olivia didn't have to. "What is transcranial magnetic stimulation?"

"It's a legitimate therapy for severe depression," Peter said. "Walter thinks it sounds great and suggested I should try it in lieu of the quack drugs I'm on so we're on a time out right now. Anyway, it involves using magnetic pulses to the brain. Walter and I theorized that somehow Ottoli's doctor or someone else modified the treatment for more of a mind control use."

"Just a time out?" Olivia looked at Peter's calm face.

"Astrid is being mean to him, too. I think she's refusing to respond to him unless he actually calls her Astrid," Peter said. "But I thought you two could start looking into TMS practices here in Boston."

"Was the TMS on Ottoli's medical record?" Lincoln was already typing.

Olivia scanned the file in front of her. "No." She looked back at Peter. "Why are you so sure?"

"We found generic pamphlets for TMS in his stuff, he has withdrawals of over $500 every two weeks for the past three months," Peter said. "We think he didn't want it on his medical record."

"Or paid by his company health insurance," Olivia said.

Peter said, "Also we have no idea how it all ties into the other side porn."

"I'm happy to look at anything else," Olivia said.

!

Peter and Astrid visited Ottoli's doctor. The man insisted he had not referred Ottoli for TMS. "I don't think it would have helped him. He was coming along fine."

Peter said, "And he never expressed the desire to kill his wife or sister?"

"Of course not," the doctor said. "He tended much more to suicidal ideation."

Astrid said, "Have you recommended any of your other patients try TMS? Someone Mr. Ottoli might have met in the waiting room?"

"None," the doctor said. "I'm not a fan of TMS. The studies are inconclusive, in my opinion."

Astrid suggested they walk around the area around the doctor's office to see if they saw anything. They both ordered lattes at the small coffee place in the lobby of the building where the doctor's office was located. Astrid said, "That guy was no Dr. Felton, huh?"

"Have we all seen her?" Peter wasn't surprised.

Astrid shrugged. "I like her. Don't you?"

"No," Peter said. "But I'm there against my will."

"Even now?" Astrid frowned.

"Yes, even now," Peter said. "Maybe it's Walter's bad influence. I just don't like shrinks."

"I don't have an opinion on all shrinks," Astrid said. "I said I like Dr. Felton."

"I appreciate her intelligence," Peter said.

"She hasn't stabbed you yet, which shows you she's really tolerant," Astrid said.

Peter smirked at her. "So I also appreciate her patience and tolerance."

Astrid found the pamphlet for a specific TMS place in the nearby juice bar. Peter drove to the doctor's office.

Astrid flashed her badge and asked to speak to Dr. Shakfin. The receptionist rubbed her eyes and said, "You can't. He's dead."

Peter said, "When?"

"Yesterday," the receptionist said, sniffling. "It was very sudden. I've had to make all these calls."

Astrid invoked the power of the FBI to look at Mr. Ottoli's file after confirming he was a patient. Peter went back to where the equipment was and started poking at it. He'd read about the procedure and the equipment involved this morning. He carefully removed a panel on the machine.

The receptionist said, "You can't do that!"

Peter just looked at her and then back at the machine. He said, "When was the last time Dr. Shakfin had maintenance in for this machine?"

Astrid had followed the receptionist in. She said, "You don't think the doctor did whatever was done to that machine?"

"Well, he's dead and I don't see any tools around here," Peter said. "I could be wrong. We need to get this back to the lab."

"No, you may not," the receptionist said. "We rent from a specialized company and they're coming."

"Refer them to Homeland Security," Peter said. He was able to remove the box he had found attached to something else entirely in the machine. He squatted on the floor and looked the box over.

Astrid arranged for all the equipment, the doctor's body, and the records for the last week of appointments sent to the lab. She said, "I'll stay here and see what I can find while I wait."

Peter said, "I'll take your car?" Astrid shook her head. Peter said, "I'll catch a cab."

!

By the end of the day, Brandon, Walter and Peter were poking and prodding at the box at Massive Dynamic. Olivia was at her apartment with Lincoln going over the other files. "So it's not from the other side," Lincoln said.

"No," Olivia said. "But it seems to have some connection to the other side? It creates a link? Or a window? I'm sure at some point Peter will send an email with an explanation I just barely understand."

"We think this guy, Dr. Shakfin, didn't do it," Lincoln said.

"No, they're sure of that. First, he was murdered in his apartment around the same time we took all of Ottoli's personal effects. Someone put that box into his machine and used it to make Ottoli kill, and a side effect seemed to be that Ottoli also saw porn from the other side," Olivia said. "I don't get what the plan was. Mind control? Something else?"

"And who else got the treatment that makes their brains melt?"

Olivia exhaled. "Do you want another beer?"

"No, I have to drive home eventually," Lincoln said.

Olivia said, "Your boyfriend is out of town?"

"He's back tomorrow," Lincoln said. "I guess we both have to go it alone tonight."

Olivia flipped over to the next file. "I tell myself I want my alone time but whenever I have it, I can't think of anything I want to do."

"And then you call him because you miss his voice," Lincoln said, smiling.

"Oh, no, I never call him," Olivia said. "He calls me."

!

Later, Peter tried to explain while Walter and Brandon added in completely extraneous comments behind him. "The box transforms the magnetic stimulation. The resonance that whoever is using, he's aiming to take them over, but it's also opening a small window to the other side."

Walter, as always, wanted to talk about the Soviet experiments on children that used some of the same methods. Brandon, unfortunately, also found the whole thing deeply intriguing. Neither of them had ever read the footnotes, Peter was sure.

Lincoln said, "Didn't we already know that?" He looked adorably confused.

Peter said, "We didn't know it for sure. Now we have a better technical grasp of how he's doing it. Have we identified other patients?"

Olivia came into view behind Lincoln. She said, "We're interviewing them today. Are there signs we should be looking for?"

"I have no idea," Peter said. "Sorry for the lack of help."

Astrid stepped into the Skype frame. "I think we have a lead on the man who installed the box. The receptionist said he had a Russian accent, in her opinion. The company who owns the equipment didn't send anyone over, and none of their techs have a Russian accent. It could have been a put on, but none of them match the physical description or the pictures we have from the security camera. However, facial recognition did get a hit."

"Is the guy a commie?" Walter said from behind Peter. "I told you, Peter. This is based on the Soviet experiments, those Commies and their magnets!"

Astrid slightly rolled her eyes. "We think he's a Russian scientist who the CIA believed was part of what you might call the Soviet Fringe division. Weird science stuff. So yes, Walter, he was probably a communist twenty years ago. He looks to be late 40s, good shape, 5'10" and wearing a wig in every single capture we could find."

"It's like a sci fi spy novel," Walter said, excited.

"I suppose," Astrid said. "Unfortunately, the only information we have is from the CIA and they either know nothing or aren't going to share. They say they're going to track this guy down."

"We'll never get to talk to him or find out why he's building mind control devices," Peter said.

"Probably," Olivia said. "Broyles doesn't have the same pull with the CIA he used to."

"I can ask Nina," Walter said.

"That's an excellent idea," Peter said.

Finally, everyone left and it was just Peter and Olivia on Skype. He said, "I love you."

She smiled at him and said, "See you soon."

!

Every single one of the 12 patients Olivia and Lincoln attempted to interview were under the unknown Russian's control. They figured it out as each patient immediately tried to kill both of them as soon as they saw them. Luckily, only three had guns. None of the three were particularly good shots. The rest used knives or tried to hurl heavy objects. Olivia and Lincoln ended up unscathed.

Each patient died a minute after the attempt to kill. "It is not that their brains turned to mush," Walter said. "This is absolutely a completely different process."

"Sorry, Dr. Bishop," Lincoln said. "I was too busy making sure they didn't kill me or Olivia."

Olivia said, "It's not very good mind control if you can only do one act and then poof, no brain." She was leaning against Peter, happy to have him back in the lab.

"Maybe it's great mind control," Peter said. "One act, no witness left to question."

"But none of them were very good at killing," Lincoln said. "Except Mr. Ottoli. Do we think this scientist had something against either of the women?"

"No connection we can find," Astrid said. "On the other hand we have 12 boxes of personal effects to look through."

"I'll take the ones who didn't look at porn," Olivia said, sighing.

!

Astrid came over and handed Peter a coffee. She said, "This week."

Peter said, "Please tell me it's a good thing."

"Actually, yes," she said. "But you go first."

Peter shrugged. "This week has sucked."

"It doesn't have to be a good memory," Astrid said.

"Dr. Felton forced me to talk about this woman I dated and I spent the rest of the day thinking about how many people probably count me as a bad memory. Deservedly so."

"Chipper outlook ya got there," Astrid said.

"Outside this lab, the numbers really are pretty high," Peter said.

"Tell me about the woman," Astrid said.

"Telling it twice won't make me come off as a good guy second time around," Peter said.

"If it's really dire, I'll tell you good things next week with no trade off," Astrid said.

"I like the trade off, you know I love listening to myself," Peter said. "I don't need a second therapist. I don't like the one I have."

Astrid just kept looking at him expectantly. He said, "Can I have pie instead since you're so curious?"

"Deal," she said. "But I'm making enough for everyone."

"Why are you so interested in my history?"

"When all this is over, I'm going to write romance novels and I need plots so between you and Olivia I figure I'm covered," Astrid said.

Peter sighed. "I know that's not true. But anyway. The second person I loved, I met her in Houston. A friend emailed me that he had a great way for both of us to get rich. I knew he was trying to scam me but I thought it would be nice to see Texas. We fleeced someone else instead of each other and he left town until things cooled off. I was going to follow him but I went out to lunch at this taqueria in Montrose and my waitress was, she was beyond gorgeous."

"The equivalent to your next love except woman model?"

"She wasn't model pretty, she was just gorgeous. She asked me if I played piano and I said yes, and honestly, we started going out that night. So I stayed in my friend's apartment and we dated for about three months. She would waitress, I got a job at a bookstore, snuck into Rice University to use their equipment for other projects, life rolled on. One day I come home and she's packing her bags. She tells me her ex-boyfriend is back from Mexico and she's loved him since she was 17 so she's going with him."

Peter looked down. "I was angry. I kept saying 'what the fuck,' and she kept backing away from me. I was more than a half foot taller than her, and I was scaring her. She said I should never ever contact her and she ran out with all her stuff. I didn't do anything, you know, but I think of how she must have thought of me. She wasn't wrong."

"She was wrong that you would hurt her," Astrid said.

"Sure, but I'd hurt lots of people without even thinking about it. I never felt connected to the masses of humanity, I never minded taking people's money. They weren't real to me," he said. "I've beat the crap out of people and it never troubled me."

"Does it trouble you now?"

"I dunno, Dr. Felton," Peter said.

"Well, not to steal her thunder but everything you're saying sounds like almost logical given that you were kidnapped and surrounded by people who were like aliens to you," Astrid said, kindly.

"She never says things like that. Does she say that to you? She always sits there and waits for me to say it," Peter said.

"I'm pretty sure we're very different sessions, Peter," Astrid said.

"Because you're saner than me," Peter said. "Before you say it, I know it's not hard to be."

"How old were you?"

"19," Peter said.

"When I was 19," Astrid said. "I was a sophomore at Brown, and my girlfriend lived in her own apartment off campus. She loved to bake, too, and we'd make these complicated recipes together. Cakes with 20 ingredients and pies with handmade crust you had to roll with a particular roller or something."

"Your stories are always better than mine," Peter said.

"This week, I met someone," Astrid said, smiling broadly.

"Where? Are you sure she's not secretly transphobic?"

"I am sure and I met her at my friend's poetry reading," Astrid said. "She's brilliant."

"Does she know you're brilliant, too?"

"We talked about cryptology," Astrid said.

"So yes," Peter said.

!

Any day now, Peter thought. He slouched further into the couch, his arm around Olivia. They were having a belated housewarming party. "Very belated," Astrid had said.

"Well, now we're dating," Peter had said.

"It's also very belated for that," Astrid had said.

"Will you just accept we should have a party?"

So they had a party. Walter was already unbelievably high. He was explaining something to Lincoln's poor boyfriend. Peter didn't want to know. Astrid and her new girlfriend were telling an elaborate story about code breaking to Olivia who was incredibly interested.

Any day now, Peter thought. Peter's father was going to take him. He thought if he told Dr. Felton that, she would ascribe it to his mental problems. She wouldn't realize it was the truth.

The only solution was to get into the Machine first.

So he threw a party because he wanted his friends and Olivia and Walter around him.

He woke up in the morning, Olivia breathing his shoulder. He felt more positive. He felt like he might make it. Maybe hypothetical Dr. Felton was right that his conviction was just his crazy talking.

!

Lincoln almost felt guilty that he was so happy. He really was, though. He had Liv. It brightened his day.

"Stop smiling," Charlie said.

"I'm happy," Lincoln said. "You know what happy means, right? Isn't that what you have with Bug Lady?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it. And I don't have anything with Bug Lady but Mona and I are doing pretty good. Between you and Liv, all this happy is killing me," Charlie said.

"Come on, Charlie, we all know it's the bugs killing you," Liv said. "Mona likes that about you."

Charlie just stared at the ceiling and muttered about certain people.

Lincoln got a call on his cuff from one of his guys. He said, "I will see you two later," and kept smiling like he meant it.

He couldn't even fake a grimace when he got back. Liv said, "Are you alright?"

"Let's talk about this later."

Later turned out to be that night, in the alleyway behind Charlie's apartment. He remembered standing there with Charlie speculating on when Liv would come back, on what had happened, when they first heard. He rubbed his forehead. He said, "A plan is in motion. They're going to kidnap the Secretary's son and bring him over here. After that they have a plan to get him into the machine to do what the Secretary wants."

"We don't want this to happen," Charlie said.

"No," Liv said. "No, Charlie, we don't."

"This machine, according to Liv, will destroy the other side and save our side," Charlie said.

Lincoln said, "You're comfortable with the mass murder of an entire universe?"

"No," Charlie said. "I'm uncomfortable with that. But I don't want to die, either, I don't want you two to die or Astrid or Broyles or Mona."

"There's a better way," Liv said. "I don't know what it is, but it's gotta be out there."

Charlie said, "Someone built this machine, isn't that a way?"

"The machine is ancient," Liv said. She looked like she was trying to recall a report she'd read. "The locations of the pieces were in a book that was just a bunch of crap, frankly, window dressing in my opinion, to get people to the machine. The Secretary has other things. He has a full schematic, and drawings. It has the power to create and destroy. All the Secretary cares about it is the destroying part."

"I just want to be sure, as we sit here contemplating treason, we're not also killing the best hope of our universe," Charlie said. "Maybe, just maybe, the super genius Secretary, as shady as he can be, is right here."

"I can't believe that," Liv said. "I can't."

"He's planning something, it won't end well. I think we should try and stop him," Lincoln said.

"Of course you do," Charlie said, smiling.

Liv said, "Why are you smiling?"

"Because," Charlie said. "Because that is exactly the stupidest thing I can imagine doing."

"It's a really bad idea," Lincoln said.

"It's an awful idea," Liv said.

"We're all going to die," Charlie said.

"I think we can definitely count on that happening," Lincoln said.

"I can think of worse ways," Charlie said. "The Secretary'll probably just kill us quickly."

"That is not a bad way to go," Liv said. "Quickly."

"That's what I want," Lincoln said.

Liv said, "Should we die in a blaze of glory before Peter gets snatched or after?"

"After," Lincoln said. We don't know how to stop what's planned on the other side."

"We should start figuring out where they'll take Peter Bishop," Charlie said. "Plan ahead."

"I'll tell Elizabeth," Liv said. "She may hear something."

"I've got a guy," Lincoln said.

"We've got a plan," Charlie said. "I always said you two would be the death of me."

"If we're lucky," Liv said, leaning and kissing Charlie's cheek.

!

Olivia sank down on the couch next to Peter. She said, "We've gotten nowhere on this TMS Russian killer. Tell me again what we know about this."

"The CIA is supposed to take care of it," Peter said.

Olivia frowned. "You don't want to talk about it?"

"I find experiments on children repulsive," Peter said.

"I do, too," Olivia said. "Tell me anyway."

"Walter and Bell used drugs to perceive the other side, they worked on ways to visualize the other side. They used vibrations in their first transfers, but they stopped because it was damaging the other side. Bell used some form of those vibrations, sound, to get across and back," Peter said. He reached for his beer and drank half of it.

"In the Soviet Union, they weren't so much into drug culture. They had their own knowledge of the other side somehow, that we've been able to reconstruct. They took babies and little children from orphanages and tried to get them to vibrate themselves over to the other side. They also tried magnetic waves to do the same thing. They tried doing them together," Peter said. He didn't look at her.

"It didn't work. 99% of the time, it didn't work. The kids would hear something once or get a foot over and then they'd go deaf or develop uncontrollable shaking. From what Brandon and I have found in the parts of the reports Massive Dynamic could get, they had probably three successes. Three kids who went over to the other side and came back and didn't go deaf or have other side effects. Judging from what you and I remember of the other side, it was not without damage to the other side." Peter sighed. "And none of it worked until 1985."

"After Walter took you," Olivia said. She was sitting close to him, her feet tucked under her, knees on his thigh.

"Walter opened things up," Peter said. "Unfortunately, we have no idea what happened to these so-called success stories. We know they were trained to carry on the experiments, taught by the scientists. But after the Soviet Union fell? No idea. We don't know where they went, if they're still alive."

"But now we think one of them is making boxes to put in TMS machines for mind control," Olivia said.

"Maybe, or maybe someone who knew about the experiments, one of the scientists, one of the students who knew the scientists," Peter said.

"If they could cross over, why not take advanced technology back to Soviet Russia and win the cold war?"

"Who knows? Maybe they did, it just wasn't enough," Peter said. "It's not like we have access to these records. Massive Dynamic probably has as good information as the CIA, they probably got it from the CIA. Or supplied it to them. They still don't know anything."

"This is super reassuring," Olivia said.

"It seems like someone from that era is experimenting on people. He's testing out mind control," Peter said.

"One act and poof goes the brain," Olivia said.

"I can see the need to refine the experiment,' Peter said. "Maybe someone should hook him up with that kid who mind-controlled me. What was that, hormones, pills? Add in some magnetism and you could have your own little army."

"Please don't make plans for the psychotic Russian," Olivia said.

"I just feel for the guy, if he's one of the successes. It's a shitty life," Peter said.

"Assuming he is, he's still making a choice," Olivia said.

"How much of a choice is it when your whole life is warped like that?" Peter finally looked at her.

"You think I lack free will?" Olivia sat up and away from him.

"Your life wasn't as warped as his, but yes, you think you have to fix everything, you're the one to do all this, but yes, yes, I do wonder if some of that is something Walter and Bell did to you," Peter said.

"Fuck you," Olivia said. She didn't move. "I wonder that sometimes, too. I wonder how many times my brain can be overwritten before it's not even mine. I don't remember the trials, I don't. But how did they make me forget?"

Peter pulled her close to him. "I have no answer for you."

"Thank god you're good in bed," Olivia said, wiping at her eyes. "It makes up for a lot."

"Should I make a sexual healing joke?"

"Please don't," Olivia said.

!

Peter found Astrid at her station, looking at her computer. "Last week," he said.

She smiled at him. "Are you going to depress me or say something TMI about Olivia?"

"Not about Olivia. Besides, you first," Peter said.

"I watched a couple of Firefly episodes because my friend insisted and I still want to sleep with Gina Torres," Astrid said.

"Me, too," Peter said. "Did you like the show?"

Astrid shrugged. "Do you love it or something?"

"I'm not a TV person, I just watch Star Trek with Walter," Peter said. "Olivia and I watch Jeopardy and documentaries. Also, she loves really bad horror movies. I mean, straight to DVD horror movies."

"You nod and just watch?" Astrid was smiling again.

"It's Olivia," he said. He paused. "Last week, and I mean actually yesterday, I saw the first guy I had sex with in that bar over in Stoughton."

"You're kidding," Astrid said.

"Nope," Peter said. "Except for the smoking and drinking, he hasn't aged that badly."

"How old were you?"

"18," Peter said. "Actually, it was also a bar in Stoughton. But not the same one. He was 18, too, and using a fake ID, and mine was much better."

"Did you bond over that?"

"No," Peter said. "We bonded over beers and video games. I mean, he wasn't the first guy I made out with, or groped, just the first time -"

"Are you defining sex as penetration here?" Astrid cocked her head to one side. "Because you know, that isn't the be all and end all."

"I know," Peter said. "But yes, in this case, I mean, fucking, like dick in ass. My ass specifically."

"At the same bar?" Astrid was grinning at him.

"In the parking lot. Bent over his car," Peter said. "I know, it sounds like it wasn't very sexy."

"Were you trying to get caught?"

"No, it was 4 am, the place was deserted. He used a condom," Peter said. "Also he was hot. Hotter than me at 18."

"Are you trying to impress me, Peter?" Astrid was still grinning.

"No," Peter said, smiling himself. "But it was funny thinking of all that when I saw him yesterday while we were investigating that slime thing."

"Is he still hot?"

Peter shrugged. "He's no Olivia. He's no Lincoln, either."

"Wait, you'd put Lincoln below Olivia when it comes to hotness?" Astrid waved to Lincoln as he came in.

Peter waited until Lincoln had walked up to them to say "Yes. Not by a lot, but yes."

"What are we talking about?" Lincoln looked between the two of them. Lincoln managed not to sound pathetic when he said it, but confident and ready to join in.

Astrid said, "Computers. Peter and I are comparing notes on building computers."

As he expected, Astrid cornered him a few hours later and said, "Why do you always tell me the sex stories of your gay past?"

He took the full coffee mug from her hand. She had two, one had to be for him. He said, "First, it's my bisexual past. Second, I've told you three stories total on this topic: yesterday's story, talking about Jamie in general, and third that time I told you how Jamie and I met."

"You're saying the only sex story has been this one," Astrid said. "It feels like more because this one feels more than a little TMI. I'm stuck on the bent over the car in the parking lot as hot. It sounds cold."

"I was a little drunk, it was August in Boston so 4 am wasn't that cold, and it was dirty hot kind of hot, you know?" He knew he was smiling at the memory. It was a surprisingly good memory.

"Okay, okay," Astrid said, smiling. "Dirty hot, I guess I can see. You know, for someone who seemed to have run as far from Boston as he could from a young age, you sure do know a lot of people around here."

Peter shrugged. "I came back a lot, even after my mom died."

"And that time you worked for Big Eddie," Astrid said.

"And that time I taught at MIT," Peter said.

"Do you have a lot of New York City stories? That might be a nice break," Astrid said.

Peter calculated. "I've spent the most time in Boston, but New York state is second. I've definitely spent time in New York City, but I actually spent five months in Rochester one time. After that, if you add up all the different times, third is probably Iraq. Then it's all just a lot of one-shots for a few weeks or three months."

"You've been all over the world," Astrid said.

"But I've never been to Australia," Peter said. "Not on this side."

"You remember things from your side?"

"I have been starting to. Since I touched the machine. I remember a trip there when I was 4, so it was the other side. I asked something stupid about being Down Under, down under what? My father laughed at me and pulled out a map, showing me where we were and my mother actually explained the term," Peter said. "He wasn't such a bad dad back then."

"When I was a kid, I asked my mom who Funk was and why was he so important that everyone talked about his godfather," Astrid said.

"Big James Brown fans in your family, I take it," Peter said.

"Yeah," Astrid said, smiling. "My mother specifically. She'd seen him in concert over 30 times."

"Did you ask how they proved he was the hardest working man in show business, because that's what I would have asked," Peter said.

"No," Astrid said. "I wasn't raised by Walter Bishop or people who pulled out maps to answer questions."

"I loved to prove things, I still love it. Walter does his with experiments, mine was always human nature. Is this guy as much of a greedy asshole as I think he is? Is the guy as gullible as I think he is?"

Astrid said, "Will he bend me over a car and fuck me in the ass or no?"

Naturally, Lincoln walked up at just that moment. He said, "I'm interrupting."

"I just want to say that was Peter's story, not mine," Astrid said.

"Hey," Peter said. "Maybe I didn't want to share that with Lincoln."

Lincoln said, "Over a car? Trunk or hood?"

"Ooh, do you have a car story, too? I don't have one," Astrid said.

"We can survey Olivia, too," Peter said.

"No one asks Walter," Astrid said.

"Also, it was the hood," Peter said.

"I've had trunk and hood," Lincoln said. "I was a pretty big slut in college."

"It just seems yucky," Astrid said. "Parts of you pushed against the car you don't want pushed against the car."

"No," Peter said. "I was about a foot from the bumper, only my chest and arms and sometimes the face were pressed against the car."

"Oh, I was the one doing the dick up the ass," Lincoln said. "So I guess I don't have the same car story."

Peter looked down and shook his head. He was going to remember that image next time he was jerking off. Astrid smirked at him like she could read his mind.

Before he left, Astrid pulled him aside. "Oh, god, Lincoln finally realized you've been flirting with him," she said, nearly laughing.

"Why is that funny?"

"After you left, he says to me, wait, is Peter bi? And I said, yes. And Lincoln said, I couldn't tell if he was just a really nice guy or he was flirting! I said you were definitely flirting but there is absolutely no chance you would ever cheat on Olivia."

"That's true," Peter said. "Am I making him uncomfortable? I don't want to do that."

"He's fine," Astrid said. "Don't worry. I told him to tell me if he was and he said he wasn't," Astrid said.

!

Olivia watched from the other side of the warehouse as Peter and Walter walked around the machine. Peter didn't seem as affected by it as he had last time. He was still affected, though, she could tell.

Lincoln said, "Do you really think they're going to move it to Manhattan?"

"To Liberty Island," Olivia said. "Walter's thinking that having it in the same location as the one on the other side might make a difference."

"Make a difference how?"

Olivia shrugged. "Walter and Peter are trying very hard to understand the machine. Honestly, this is one of those discussions where I remember they both have about 50 IQ points more than me."

"And me," Lincoln said. "But they think they can use it to make things better after Walter broke everything back in 1985?"

"Basically," Olivia said. "There's a book, too."

"I read it," Lincoln said. "It's incomprehensible. I think it's meant to be nonsense, just a, a way of getting the numbers across to people."

"You don't think there was a race of super advanced people inhabiting the earth even before the dinosaurs that were wiped out of all history?" Olivia smiled. "I think Walter loves the idea."

"He loves it because it ties into his theories about how we were all used to have extraordinary abilities."

"When did you hear that theory?" Olivia turned to look at Lincoln, who was fiddling with his glass. Then she went back to watching Peter. He looked slightly manic.

"I've done some, uh, well, Astrid calls it babysitting but we're not supposed to say that in front of Walter."

Olivia said, "Not too much?"

"No, no. Just when Asher's out of town, and Walter's been really agitated, I let Astrid have her nights and go home with Dr. Bishop. He can be pretty good company. Sometimes."

Olivia looked back at him. She said, "I think that's supposed to be Peter's job. He doesn't know people are babysitting Walter."

"It's not actually Peter's job," Lincoln said. "Look, my dad was a lawyer, brilliant and sharp as a tack. Then he had a stroke when I was 24, and my mom and I, we did what we could. But it wasn't our job."

"He passed away," Olivia said.

"Yeah, about two years ago," Lincoln said. "But my point is Peter doesn't have to do everything for Walter."

"Peter feels differently. He is Walter's legal guardian."

Lincoln said, "If you think Peter would feel guilty, then we don't tell him. He's got enough to worry about."

"He really doesn't like that, people keeping things from him," Olivia said.

"Walter or Peter?"

Olivia smiled. "Peter. Walter doesn't mind so much."

Peter and Walter walked over to them. Peter grabbed Olivia's hand and squeezed. She felt him almost trembling. He said, "So we need to somehow move this thing to Liberty Island."

Walter said, "I think it will be for the best, I really do. We need to make sure they are in the same location so they can vibrate together."

"That sounds like something fun to plan," Olivia said.

"We've decided to make it Nina's problem," Peter said.

"Great idea," Lincoln said.

"Absolutely," Peter said.

!

Charlie said, "There's a delay on the Peter kidnapping plan." They were in Lincoln's apartment, playing cards. Liv and Lincoln hadn't mentioned the picture of Mona or the amount of her stuff laying around.

"How much of a delay?" Liv put down her cards. She never liked poker.

"A delay," Charlie said. "Another two weeks."

"Which ties into what I heard," Lincoln said. "Instead of playing with the mind control, the experiments they're running, the ones they're trying to get information about on the other side, it's all about erasing memories."

"If they erase enough, Peter won't hate his father," Liv said. "They'll have to erase a lot."

"It's not a computer program, they don't just swipe at specific points," Lincoln said. "It's a matter of drugging him and drawing out the memories before erasing them. The experiments aren't going great so far, too much brain damage."

"Why not damage his brain?" Charlie shrugged. "If he's brain damaged maybe he still likes the secretary."

"It's wired for Peter," Liv said. She was considering, Lincoln could tell. "If it's made for Peter, it's made for someone who's smart. Maybe you need a certain IQ to operate."

"Then everyone in this room is doomed," Charlie said.

"We were doomed before, because the Secretary isn't our father," Lincoln said.

"As far as you know," Charlie said.

"Hey, hey, lay off my mother," Lincoln said.

"Your mother is very attractive," Liv said.

!

Dr. Felton said, "Let's talk about your mother."

Peter glared at her. He said, "No."

"You said you were getting back some of your memories of her."

"Still no," Peter said.

"Why?"

"Why don't I want to dissect my mother here? I don't want to, period," Peter said.

"Dissect," Dr. Felton said, patiently. She was one of the most irritating people Peter had met in his life. She said, "Okay. What was the first time you left home?"

He stewed for a minute and then said, "Why?"

She smiled again, the viper. "Why do you think?"

"You're looking for any excuse to make me talk about my mother," he said.

"Wow," she said, kindly as ever. "You're wrong. I don't have a checklist, Peter, I'm not going through a secret agenda of topics. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm here because I was forced to be," he said. "Your job is to help me be a more productive FBI asset and less dangerous to others."

"That's exactly how I think of it," she said, with a little bit of a smirk. "In pursuit of increasing your productivity and reducing your capacity to be a danger to others, I want you to be less miserable. I have to admit, when you're not as miserable, I enjoy talking to you more."

"Maybe I'm unpleasant when I'm less miserable," Peter said.

"I refuse to believe that," Dr. Felton said.

"People have said I'm an asshole," Peter said.

"I believe that," Dr. Felton. "Did you want to talk about that?"

He sighed and stopped crossing his arms over his chest. He picked at his jeans. He said, "I first left home when I was 16. I was in love with a girl, she went to Vanderbilt University. I followed her there after a week. I had a fake ID, in fact, I already had more than one. I used that to get one or two shitty jobs and rented a room at a shithole hotel. I lived there until January."

"What was the girl's name?"

"Clarity, which was always unfortunate. Ten years later, Jay-Z has a hit and everywhere I go, thank God for giving me this moment of Clarity, so I get flashbacks of my stupidity," Peter said, almost smiling.

"Stupid for following her? Stupid for breaking up with her?"

"I didn't say I broke up with her," Peter said.

"I deduced," Dr. Felton said with a little bit of glee. "You were in love, you said you've been in love five times, and the first one ended because you were scared of how serious it was."

"Excellent deduction," Peter said.

"Was she older than you?"

"No, we were the same age. I started high school when I was 13, when Walter was in St. Claire's. So we had no money and I went to public school. I tested out of a bunch of classes and basically took junior classes that whole year. The next year I only took 3 classes, took another three at Boston College. By the time I was 16, I had two classes left. I blew it off for Clarity so now Walter can keep pointing out I'm not even a high school graduate. I met her at Boston College, we were the youngest people in that math class," he said.

"She went to college," Dr. Felton said.

"And I didn't," Peter said. "Not legally. She was very focused. I wanted out of Boston."

"I hesitate to bring this up, but by Boston you mean your mother?"

He rubbed his jeans and looked at his shoes. He said, "Basically. But let's not leave Walter out of that calculus."

"Did you go back to Boston for the holidays?"

"Yes," Peter said. "Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's. Clarity did and there wasn't much to keep me there when she wasn't."

"And you broke up with her in January?"

"Yes," he said. "I was an asshole about it, but I didn't string her along or pretend it was anything it wasn't. I'm sure she's doing much better without me in her life."

Dr. Felton said, "You never checked up on her after you moved back to Boston?"

"Do you think I should look for her on Facebook?"

"No," Dr. Felton said. "Only if you're suddenly curious, I guess. I just wondered if that was the first time you cut someone out of your life so completely."

He looked up at Dr. Felton. He hated her more when she was good at her job. He said, "Yes."

"Did you talk to your mother while you were away?"

"I called three times a week," Peter said.

"Long talks or answering machine messages?"

"Both," Peter said. "She did have a life outside of raising me."

"How long were you back in Boston before you left again?"

"Two months. Honestly, after that I never really thought of Boston as home. I stopped by for a week or two until I went to Europe, and then I stopped seeing her at all and she was dead," he said.

!

Olivia was of two minds when it came to dealing with Peter on therapy days. She reconsidered calling it 'dealing with.' She appreciated his general almost distracted air because it meant he was taking it all seriously. She disliked the way she tended to brace herself for the worst. The worst so far had been Peter going into his room and reading a book in bed. She knew it wouldn't sound bad but when he did it, it was like a dark cloud enveloped him. He also pointedly didn't want to talk.

She knew it was silly. She was someone who was perfectly happy being alone. She had moments of stir craziness living with and working with Peter. It was different when he was so clearly shutting her out, she thought.

He made her worry about him. She felt unsafe about him.

Usually he just spent the evening thinking about something else. He would engage with her. He would make jokes. He beat her more than once at Scrabble and she could tell the whole time he was thinking of something else entirely.

Astrid glanced at Peter's empty place in the lab. "Does he ever get snippy when he comes home from therapy?"

Olivia smiled. "He saves snippy for Walter."

"I think it would drive me crazy to work with someone I lived with and was dating," Astrid said.

"I was just thinking that," Olivia said. "Sometimes I go a little stir crazy. I don't think I can take anyone for 24 hours a day. Not too many days in a row."

"I dated my college roommate," Astrid said. "Even in the beginning, I loved the classes we didn't have in common. It was like a chance to breathe. And she wasn't the type of girl was made you feel tied down, it was just a lot of her."

"I don't know how I'd date someone who didn't know what I did, though," Olivia said. "I don't know how you do that."

"I love it," Astrid said. "I get to talk about anything else besides this."

"Hey, Peter and I do that," she said.

"Beer or whiskey?" Astrid said, in a very bad imitation of Peter.

"We're drinking at work now? Great," Lincoln said as he sat down next to Astrid.

"We do," Astrid said. "Not yet today."

"Astrid was making fun of me," Olivia said. "And Peter."

"My boyfriend thought you two were very cute together," Lincoln said.

"See?" Astrid looked back at Olivia. "Someone else who manages a relationship without the other person being in Fringe division."

"Though I started dating him two years ago, so he's grandfathered in," Lincoln said. "I don't know what I'd do if I were single."

"You could date Peter," Olivia said. "If he were single."

"If Peter's single then so are you," Astrid said.

"Hmm," Olivia said. "Well, I couldn't date you," she said to Astrid. "You'd go crazy."

"Dating Broyles would be against FBI protocol," Lincoln said. "Is there anyone else?"

Astrid said, "Maybe someone at Massive Dynamic?"

"Eww," Olivia said.

"We can both date Peter," Lincoln said. "Or not. I don't know. This is a confusing hypothetical."

"Don't worry, you're not offending anyone," Astrid said.

"Good," Lincoln said. "I'll make sure to let Peter know he has to date me if I'm ever single."

"Just don't say it in front of Walter," Astrid said. "No one wants more stories about Walter's free love adventures."

"Especially Peter," Olivia said. "Have you ever noticed how many of Walter's stories take place when Walter was married?"

"Peter gets that look," Astrid said.

Lincoln said, "Is that what that look is? Isn't it more of a jaw clench?" Lincoln did a much better imitation of Peter than Astrid had done.

"I am not going to laugh at that," Olivia said.

"I'm not sleeping with him so I can," Astrid said. She smiled widely.

"Peter's mother is dead," Lincoln said, tentatively.

"Yes," Olivia said. "This one."

"I have a question about that, actually," Lincoln said.

"I got this," Astrid said. "Go home, Olivia."

Peter was on his laptop at the kitchen counter. She looked over his shoulder. "You know someone named Clarity?"

"I did," Peter said. "I dumped her when I was 16 so I thought, hey, how's she doing?"

"Does she have a 16 year old child I should have known about?" Olivia said, lightly.

"God, I didn't even think about that. She doesn't," he said. "She basically followed exactly the career path she had for herself back then. Tenure track professor of American Literature. Kinda sad, she was amazing at higher mathematics."

"What a loss," Olivia said. "She's pretty."

Peter closed his browser and shut down his computer. "Yes, by the way."

"Yes to what?" Peter poured her a glass of red wine and she took it.

"Oh, you weren't asking."

"Don't be a dick," she said.

"Hers was the first vagina I put my penis in," he said with a smirk.

"I wasn't asking that at all," Olivia said. "But hey, good to know. Clarity."

"Your turn," he said.

"I was 17," she said.

"I was actually 15 when we did that," he said.

"Good for you," she said. "I think his name was David. Donovan?"

"That good," Peter said.

"It wasn't bad. It was more like, oh, okay, that's done with, done that."

He leaned close to her and said, "Please tell me that's not how you see it now."

"No," she said. She hooked a finger in his belt and pulled him even closer.

"Also, she was my first love," Peter said. "What about you?"

"You're full of questions tonight," she said. "This is not your usual post-therapy mood."

He put his wine glass down and pulled her flush to him. She said, "Hrm, Lucas, and I was 22. So you did everything first."

"You graduated high school and college," he said. "You know, I think I'm two credits shy of having that high school degree."

"That sounds like a horrible movie, 32 year old super genius goes back to take gym and home ec," she said. He was squeezing her ass with both hands and she was suddenly very conscious of how much taller than her he was.

"Those might be the classes I was missing," he said.

She had already put her wine glass down. She stepped away from him and picked it up again, finishing the whole glass. "Are we doing this here or in the bed?"

Peter smiled at her. "Bed."

!

"For maybe tomorrow we die," Liv said, straddling Lincoln on the bed. "Should we be having sex like every time is the last time? Is this the wrong time to bring up a threesome or foursome?"

"Yes," Lincoln said. He caressed her legs. "Be serious with me for once."

"I'm serious with you all the time," Liv said. She took his hands and held them between hers. "I love you."

"I know," Lincoln said. "I know. I'm not adjusted the way you are. I want all the time in the world with you and I want it to be more than three more weeks."

"I do, too," Liv said. She shifted so they were laying next to each other. "It frightens me when we're mushy, like, it's the last scene in the movie right before someone dies."

"If we're making a joke, we're putting off death," Lincoln said. "I'm not sure that's true."

"If I'm carrying one last image of you to my death, I want it to be you laughing -"

"Please, you don't care about my face, you'll be thinking of my penis," Lincoln said, smirking. "It's so pretty."

"It is," Liv said. She ran her finger up and down the shaft. "And nice balls. You could do sex films."

"If I can do them with you," Lincoln said. "Not to be mushy."

"Oh, no, with such an aesthetically pleasing penis, you'll be in the gay ones," Liv said.

"I feel I should point out you also have a great body," Lincoln said.

"Duh," Liv said. "Maybe you should show me how much you like it."

Lincoln smiled. "I'm gonna get a sketchpad and draw you right now."

"Or you could fuck me," Liv said.

"That's actually what I was gonna do," he said, pushing his hand between her legs.

!

Dr. Felton, after cataloging all of Peter's non-existent side effects, opened with "It sounds like your mother's suicide had some profound effects on your life."

Peter stared at her, waiting for her to say something that wasn't as obvious as concrete. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, for once, Peter won and Dr. Felton spoke first. She said, "You feel responsible for her death, don't you?"

He bit back the no shit, sherlock, he first thought of. Then he said, "I am, so yes."

"If at some point after you discovered the other Olivia's deceit, you had recklessly thrown yourself at something and died, suicide by being an untrained civilian acting as a federal agent, would either Olivia be responsible?"

He stared at her again. He said, "Well, thanks to your clever hypothetical, I now realize I'm not responsible, all cured."

She smiled. "That wasn't the point. I'm not trying to argue you out of feeling responsible, I don't think anyone can."

"Because I am," he said.

"You're not, but nothing I say will change your mind. I just wanted to know how this idea of responsibility extends to other people and your actions. You don't think some portion of your current state is the responsibility of the other Olivia?"

He considered. He sincerely tried for the rest of the hour to listen and consider.

He went home and poured himself four shots in quick succession of the quality booze Olivia kept around. He stared at the walls, at the one thing they had hanging on their refrigerator. Ella had sent a picture, so they had that one thing. One thing, he thought.

He got up and went to bed. He hadn't fallen asleep twenty minutes later when he heard Olivia come home. She puttered in the kitchen and came into the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt. When she got in next to him, she was naked. "Hi," she said.

"Hey," he said. "Why exactly do you put up with me?"

"You're pretty cute," she said, kissing him. "Big dick."

"I'm serious," Peter said, smiling slightly in spite of himself. "I betrayed you."

"I'm not angry at you for that now," she said.

He felt a surge of irritation, he was exhausted being cast as a victim. "Why not?"

"I think," she said, and paused. "If I had that assignment, there are parts I would have never have done, but I would have worked very hard to be that undercover role. If Broyles had asked me to, and I thought it might save lives. And I was her. She's very serious about getting her job done. So maybe I need to be more humble."

"You're not mad at me because you're just that good?" He smiled again.

She raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and smiled. She kissed him again. "How drunk are you?"

He said, "I am definitely drunk."

"Don't waste the good stuff on your before bed drink," she said. "We have wine for that."

Two days later, he was back at Dr. Felton's office. Peter said, "Are you still not in favor of me and Olivia?"

Dr. Felton smiled at him. "I was concerned about the damage you could do to each other."

Peter rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair across from her. "Well, we haven't yet."

She nodded. He said, "I thought maybe it was because we were on such different places on the map when it comes to, ah, mental health."

"That's not a good analogy," Dr. Felton said. "It's not a journey you can compare. In the space of four months, you discovered everything you knew about your life was a lie and a lie again and then another lie. Even one of those revelations would have been a hard blow."

"You make me sound like some cartoon character getting flattened over and over again," he said.

"I didn't make it sound like that at all, but I understand why you would visualize it that way. It's no wonder that the way you've learned to deal with the world since you were eight stopped being effective after being flattened," she said.

He stared at her with hate. He knew it was a defensive and childish response but apparently his ways of dealing with the world were unreliable.

!

"It feels weird, doing this work," Liv said.

"Our actual jobs, you mean," Charlie said. They were scanning up and down a building where a tear had been detected.

"Which we get paid to do," Lincoln added.

"Some of us better than others," Charlie said. He stopped in front of one room.

"I'm worth it," Lincoln said.

"Maybe he was being bitter about me," Liv said. She went up to Charlie and looked over his shoulder at his meter.

"No, I get paid more than you," Charlie said.

Lincoln walked over to join Charlie. There was a clear tear forming inside the apartment. Charlie banged on the door. "Fringe, let us in," he said.

There was no answer. Lincoln broke down the door.

It was a completely empty apartment. Not even dust. In the middle of the main room, a device had been placed, hanging from the ceiling by rope.

"What the hell is that," Liv said as she walked forward. "Is this a trap?"

"If that device is causing the tear to form, we need to turn it off," Lincoln said, walking up to it. It was simple but didn't look homemade. At least not in a cheap home. He touched it and felt a thrum. Then he grabbed it and started looking for some way to turn it off.

Charlie said, "Is that a smart idea?"

Lincoln heard Charlie calling Astrid in the background, transmitting pictures back to the base.

Lincoln found what he was looking for and twisted the top to what he thought was the off position. Charlie said, "Tear is not forming. We need to pack that thing up to take it back to the base."

"Let's get out of here," Liv said. "This feels like a set up."

"It does," Lincoln said. Lincoln dug out his freeze gun. It had another name, but Lincoln loved calling it his freeze gun like he was the Red Lantern. He sprayed down the device as the three of them headed out of the building.

They were barely on the threshold out when the whole building exploded.

"Okay," Liv said, staring at the burning building. "I think I was right about trap."

Charlie said, "Do you think they're gonna tell us this one is anti-amber activists, too?" He tapped his cuff and gave Astrid an update.

Liv said quietly, "Do you think the Secretary is trying to kill us?"

Lincoln stared at the flames. Anyone who'd been alive in that building wasn't now. Life mattered, life always mattered. He said, "No. I don't think he is. If the Secretary really wanted the three of us dead, we would all three of us be dead. I think this is anti-amber activists. Do I think they have some very sophisticated help? Who benefits from these kind of things?"

"No one," Liv said.

"That's not true," Charlie said, startling both of them. "It helps the Secretary. The more chaotic the world is, the more he can do whatever he wants."

"He doesn't need to do anything," Liv said. "The universe has that covered."

"Yeah, but he's the kind of guy who hedges his bets," Charlie said.

!

They had another case, something that happened only because there were now more and more spots where the universe was decaying. Olivia was in New York City with Nina putting together the amber protocols and what to measure.

Peter was in the bowels of Liberty Island, where Nina had had the machine moved. He and Walter looked at the schematics, looked at the machine. "So much of this in your head, Peter," Walter said. "We need to prepare your head."

"Does this involve LSD, Walter?"

"Would you take it?"

Peter considered. "We have no idea what happens when I get in there. I'm beginning to think the answer is to just do it."

"No," Walter said. "There must be more we can do to make sure you survive. We have to make sure you live, Peter."

"We have to make sure we find a way not to kill billions of people," Peter said.

"I thought, maybe, I would try to get the DizRay machine to work, go back to that day, the day before my Peter died and cure him. Then I would never go over there. But then I thought, your father, he wouldn't find the cure in time. I would have to let you die," Walter said.

"Your Peter would be alive," Peter said. "You don't know my father wouldn't find it eventually."

"He wouldn't," Walter said. "I can't let you die. I can't let you die."

"We're going around in circles," Peter said. "Do you really think your DizRay machine would travel back in time?"

"I do," Walter said. "Maybe we could go back and ask the First People how we should do it?"

"Assuming they exist," Peter said. "Now, solutions for the next two weeks."

"I have nothing," Walter said, almost weeping.

"Walter, you're smarter than this. You're capable of this. Maybe you should try the LSD."

"Don't you think I already have?" Walter touched the machine and nothing happened. Peter stepped back so he wasn't tempted.

"Walter, stop," Peter said. "We need to find a way and we should find it soon. If I don't get in the machine on this side, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get dragged against my will at some point and into the machine on the other side. So stop. We've gone over this. Assume you made the machine. Assume that it was you. Would you build a weapon? Probably not. You would build something that could save us all. That's what you would do."

Walter sniffled. "The question is how do you heal the decay." Walter tugged at his cardigan. He said, "Let's not think about the power and assume that at some point I will solve the problem. If I had power at my hands, how would I heal this breach?"

"Yes, how would you do it? If we work this out, then I memorize it, how to think about it, the steps to take, even when I'm on the other side, I'll still have it," Peter said.

"You assume they are going to take you," Walter said.

"Pretty much," Peter said. "So we have time now to do this."

"And make sure you come out alive," Walter said. "If I made this thing, I would never make it so you had to die."

"Great, but that's our second priority. First is, how do you knit things back together?"

"Knit," Walter said. "Knit, what an excellent way to visualize."

To Peter's infinite relief, it worked. They got to work.

!

It was Sunday morning and Peter had for once slept well. Olivia watched him for a few minutes, just appreciating that she had him. He woke slowly and smiled at her. She said, "You really think your father is going to kidnap you?"

"What a wonderful way to start the day," Peter said. "Yes."

"Why don't we try to stop him? Why do you just assume it will happen?"

"He had a shapeshifter in the US Senate and high up in Massive Dynamic. Do you think he can't get to me? Of course he can. I'd rather not see you killed because -" He stopped and sat up. "Can we have coffee while we argue about this?"

He got out of the bed and went into the kitchen. She followed him while he started making them both lattes. Lincoln and Asher had actually bought them a very expensive espresso machine as a housewarming gift. Olivia had wanted to give it back but Peter thought it would be awkward and ultimately silly. They'd have the opportunity to pay them back with a nice gift, he'd said. She said, "I wouldn't get killed."

"You hope you wouldn't get killed. You versus ten shapeshifters, how do you think that turns out? You versus twenty. He can throw everything at this operation, it's his endgame, Olivia." Peter twisted hard at the knobs. He made a great latte, usually. Of course, he'd worked as a barista.

"I see what you're saying, but I just, I don't want to give up on you. It feels like you're giving up," Olivia said.

"Do you think Dr. Felton is going to talk me out of this? This is cold hard logic speaking, not mental illness. What do you think he's going to do?" Peter handed her her latte in her favorite mug.

She had a favorite mug now. Because Peter had given it to her, had bought it for her on one of their New York City trips. She sipped her latte. She said, "I know. But I want to do something, not sit around and watch."

"When it happens, it will probably be easier to get me back than to try to stop it. We have something they don't, we have you," Peter said. He stepped closer and touched her cheek. She leaned into his hand.

"So I should try to get my cortexiphan powers working instead of worrying about you?"

Peter kissed her. He said, "Can you do both? Maybe after we have happy Sunday morning sex?"

"Sure," she said. "I got you a gift." She went into the bathroom in what had been her room, showered and pulled out her gift.

As she walked in, he was saying, "I honestly was mostly joking about the tentacle dildo, so if you got me one -" Then he saw her and smiled. "Agent Dunham, are those thigh high stockings? That is really very sweet." He was already holding his dick. "So sweet."

She got on the bed and then on her knees. "These are not as comfortable as they look, so we're saving them for special occasions."

"You do love me," Peter said. He pulled her to him. She ended up sitting with her legs bent and spread, black lacy bookends on either side of his chest. He kissed her and had his hand between her legs fast.

She didn't love the stupid hose at all, but she was definitely turned on by how turned on Peter was. It was slow, sweet, tender, realy hot sex. She nearly came a third time when they were done and Peter unrolled the silly hose off her leg. "I love your hands," she murmured.

"I love all of you," he said.


	8. I asked him why the grass is blue and

More depression, suicide references. Very important to note: if there were major character death in this story, I would warn for major character death in this story. **I did not warn for major character death.**

* * *

Peter walked out of Dr. Felton's office scowling as usual. He went into the coffee shop he always went into and ordered whatever random flavor latte was the special that day. He texted Olivia, love you, on the way home.

Today was the day. Somewhere halfway to his car, he felt someone behind him and before he could react, he felt the barrel of a gun at his lower back. "We won't kill you, but we'll hurt you. We'll kill everyone here if you fight back. We'll go back to that coffee shop and kill every barista and then we'll take out your shrink. So are you going to behave?"

The inevitability of it had taken away the sting and shock, Peter was surprised to note. His only surprise was his own resignation. He thought, weirdly, that Astrid loved Dr. Felton and he couldn't do that to her. He said, "Well, assuming you have to take me somewhere to take me to my father, can I finish this latte while you cart me away?"

The guy holding the gun chuckled.

Peter was hustled into the back of a car, blindfolded. He heard his phone being run over and thought of that one picture he had of Olivia and Ella talking very seriously about baby goats he kept forgetting to send to Rachel from her last visit. All the other pictures from that visit, Ella asleep on the couch in Olivia's arms, Rachel making Olivia laugh uproariously, he'd sent people those pictures. They were saved and safe.

He didn't take pictures of Walter, he'd had no pictures of Walter saved. It was probably cruel. Walter loved being in pictures and he put them up everywhere in the house. Now that the house was only his, Peter had noticed a proliferation of pictures. None from Peter, but more than a few were of Peter. He should have sent pictures to Walter. Or printed them out.

There was also a number of pictures of Gene in Walter's house.

Once he had sent Olivia a dick pic after she'd begged. She'd been joking asking for it, but he'd done it anyway. She'd probably deleted it the moment it came through. It was still on his phone. It still had been on his phone. He had really tried to make it an aesthetically pleasing dick pic. They handcuffed his hands in front of him and someone put his latte in his hands. "Thanks," he said.

It was a four hour drive. Peter tried to turn off the part of his brain calculating where they were going. He drank his latte. He wondered if he would ever come home. He felt briefly sorry for Dr. Felton because she really had gotten through to him. At least a little. She probably knew. It didn't matter if he never told her. It didn't matter anyway, so he was in less mental pain for this last act of his life.

Maybe it did matter. Maybe not actively wanting to die or not actively caring if he did die meant he would resist. Maybe he would buy time for his rescue. Maybe he would even be rescued, so he should thank Dr. Felton.

He felt a weight in his stomach a curl of fear and dread. They wouldn't give him his medication on the other side. They would cut him off cold turkey. He'd read enough about his drugs to know what that meant: wild emotional swings, headaches, body aches, exhaustion. He wasn't looking forward to it. It was a stupid thing to worry about.

His father would never let him in the machine without trying to alter his mind. Would he go in and then his brain would heat up to gas and then cool and liquefy and drip down his spine? It seemed too blunt force for his father.

They'd convinced Olivia she was someone else. They needed Peter to hate his home, stop hating his father. They needed him to destroy the universe where nearly everyone he loved lived. He doubted he would have time to explain that the answer didn't have to destruction. His father was beyond hearing that.

Maybe they would dangle his mother in front of him. He knew himself well enough to know he would capitulate in a minute to save his mother. If he died, if there was any kind of afterlife, maybe he would see his dead mother and get to apologize. On behalf of himself and Walter.

He finished his latte. "Now I need to take a piss, what are the chances you let me do that?"

A few minutes later the car pulled over and stopped. Someone stood behind him walking him into some of underbrush. "I'll tell you if you're gonna hit your shoes," the someone behind him said.

He pissed and zipped up again. He let himself be walked to the car. There was no point in leaving a trail. Olivia would know where to find him when she realized he was gone. Olivia, Walter, he thought plaintively. No one would tell Olivia she didn't have to do everything herself. No one she might believe.

He allowed himself to think about Olivia, Olivia in her stockings and a pointless, lacy garter belt and nothing else. He hoped she'd felt like she'd gotten hers, too. He'd done things for her like that. He'd bought a paddle.

He'd begged Astrid to tell him which website to order from.

They'd arrived in a city, probably New York City. Definitely New York City, Peter realized, hearing someone shouting on the street. They drove some more and then sat in the car unmoving, probably parked.

"Ferry to Liberty Island, right?" Peter pulled down his blindfold and confirmed he was right. "You can't get me to get you down to the part you want to be."

"We're taking you over from the grass," one of the men said. "We're going to drug you first."

"Awesome," Peter said. "What would you do if I ran and jumped off the edge?"

"Stop you before you killed yourself, send you over, then kill your shrink and whomever is on the ferry heading home," the same man said.

"You really want to kill my shrink, don't you?"

"We say we're going to kill your father or your girlfriend or your friends, you tell us how they can defend themselves," the man said. "You think, maybe they won't succeed."

"Oh, I think you would," Peter said. "Is it too late to ask you to pick me up a week's supply of my prescriptions? I think they've really been making a difference in my mental health. I'd like to die at my best place, sanity wise."

"Stop trying to be funny," the man said.

"I was speaking from the heart," Peter said.

The man in the seat next to Peter in the backseat injected something in Peter's neck. No sterilization, Peter thought. Then he didn't think at all.

!

Liv scanned the ladies in their expensive real wool coats. It was ostentatious, she thought, frowning. Everyone of these of people was wearing something that could never be made again, something wool, or camel hair or fur. She would bet there was less surveillance at this fancy garden shindig than Elizabeth's usual hangouts so this was where Liv had decided to talk to her about this.

She found Elizabeth in one corner, sipping on tea. Elizabeth looked serene, Liv couldn't imagine she'd ever in her life looked that together. Or ever would.

Elizabeth said, "What are you doing here?" She sounded calm, even sad.

Liv said, quietly, "Your husband has kidnapped your son to this side. It happened yesterday."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. She closed her eyes for a moment. For a brief moment, Elizabeth looked like she'd taken a punch. Then the serenity was back. Elizabeth said, "What happens now?

"We're gonna try to get him out," Liv said.

"'We' is you and Agent Lee," Elizabeth. "Small team for such an undertaking."

"Agent Francis, too, who we work with. He's helpful, usually," Liv said. She shouldn't be joking like she normally did at this point.

"You should talk to Philip," Elizabeth said.

"Special Agent Broyles?" Liv crossed her arms. "I don't know if that's safe for us. He's friends with your husband. Good friends."

"He's the father of a boy who was kidnapped," Elizabeth said. "The other Olivia saved that boy. Nothing is as black and white as it might appear."

"I'd rather not get arrested before we actually get ourselves killed."

"No," Elizabeth said. "Walter talks about survival and how we have to do this, but at the heart of it, he wants to make the other side suffer. They stole his son. He has no forgiveness. Philip is a better man."

"Your husband's going to put Peter in a machine," Liv said.

"I know," Elizabeth said. She reached into her purse and put on sunglasses. "His eyes will be balls of fire. I've seen all of it."

"But we don't want that to happen," Liv said. She had assumed Elizabeth agreed with them.

"No, of course not," Elizabeth said. "If you look at all the book and the scrolls, it's clear the machine is meant to heal, not destroy. That's one way it can work. It could be used for good. As I said, Walter prefers to construct the world his way. He will make them pay." She breathed calmly, steeling herself. Liv thought the Secretary should be afraid. Elizabeth said, "What do you need me to do?"

Liv breathed a sigh of relief. "If you know where they might be holding Peter or some idea of where, that would be helpful."

"Of course," Elizabeth said. She looked down at her hands, Liv saw her knuckles were white. "The house where Peter was born is now in amber. He came so fast. Two miscarriages before, three miscarriages after. They probably all had that same disease he had. But he lived longer than we thought. He survived even after he was taken. My baby boy." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, you don't need me to be maudlin."

"It feels like an okay time to be maudlin," Liv said. "My sister died in childbirth. I never even met my niece."

"My big rebellion against the father of my child," Elizabeth said. "He'll have a lot to complain about to his mistress."

"I didn't know he had one," Liv said.

"I always knew. He's reasonably discreet, there is always just the one. He never lets them have children, like someone will come for them again, I suppose. Or to be nice to me, maybe," Elizabeth said. "It's fine, it barely hurts."

"He's an idiot," Liv said. "You're hot, I wouldn't cheat on you."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I'll do my best to intrude in my husband's work unobtrusively."

"That would be great," Liv said. "But be careful."

"Assignment accepted," Elizabeth said. She walked off, posture perfect as always.

!

Peter waded through cotton to wake up. He was on the other side. Something in his body that always felt a touch off, too fast or too slow, was humming at just right. He was home vibrating at the right note. Now he waited for Olivia to rescue him.

He thought, Olivia, and he became more aware. He was on a bed, restrained, something on his head, something in his neck. Tendrils weaving through his blood like Loeb, all those years ago. The memory flared and the tendrils swept around it. Like it was a more than an electrical impulse and synapses, Peter pulled the memory back, away.

Someone swore. "I'm increasing the dosage." Brandon. Evil Brandon. The one Olivia was scared of.

"Try for something easier," Walter said.

He was nine years old and his teacher loomed over him, saying "You know, Peter, you might be right but you could learn a lot about kindness and decency." Her round face, blonde hair, thin nose, glasses, grey dress faded away as he squinted up at her.

His mother held his shoulders and said, "It's hard to be corrected, no one likes to be wrong, sweetheart." But Peter could be wrong, too. He knew that. What was he supposed to do? His mother kissed the top of his head, telling him to practice ways to say it more kindly.

He was four, barely sick, on the cold beach. No shoes, cold wet sand under his feet and he was running to outrun being sick. To prove he could. Fresh sea air, water beating the sand and his feet. He stopped short, short of breath. The ocean stayed there, nothing disappeared from this one. He looked around confused.

He caught a glimpse of white tulips but he pulled that one back. Fuck 'em.

Peter yelled "Fuck you" at a passing car, as he tramped home at age 13. He wouldn't accept rides from strangers anyway, but no need to splash the slush on Peter's red snow boots. He walked or took public transportation everywhere, he should have gotten a bike. Why didn't he have a bike? He knew how to ride.

His bike had been stolen. Some asshole at his apartment complex took it and he never got it back. He should have stolen one for himself. He would do it.

Walter was already Walter, he sat across from Peter on Peter's bed and he ate coffee yogurt. He told Peter in detail how to build a bridge to other side. This one would have been good to remember a long time ago, Peter thought.

Peter was ten, something in him jumped and fizzed when he saw Dave, the red-brown hair that just looked so soft, he had pretty eyes. Peter described the feeling to his mother, but not the person in question, she cooed and said he had a crush.

The next day in class he noticed Bonnie, and her long, long blonde hair. He described her to his mom, she wouldn't mind hearing that. Maybe she wouldn't mind about Dave but Peter knew enough to know some tests weren't worth finding out the results if the results could possibly be negative.

He sang along with a song on the radio. "My name is Luka." His mother smiled at him at the doorway of his room. His voice broke three times and he sounded ridiculous.

Dad in the garage, time for an experiment.

Dad in the garage, with the prongs attached to the battery.

Dad carrying a puzzle box. "We'll tell Mommy later."

He woke up thrashing in his bed. He was terrified. Dad came into the room and sat next to him, patting his head. "Describe what scared you, I'll tell you it won't happen to you."

Peter opened his eyes. The restraints were being undone. Brandon said, "This is going to take weeks at this rate."

Peter reached out and grabbed Brandon's wrist. What had that girl in Nevada shown him? He twisted and pulled and Brandon shouted in agony. He punched Peter in the face with the free hand.

"He broke my wrist," Brandon said.

"Yes," Walter said. Peter heard the pride. It curdled his blood.

!

Olivia knew Peter had been taken an hour after it happened. If she had just tracked them better, she could have saved Peter from whatever his father was doing him. Instead they lost the thread at the Federal Building, Lincoln and Broyles and Astrid buzzing around trying to figure out something. There was too much confusion, they were trying to track which car Peter had been taken in, guess at where the car was going. They should have been better prepared. They knew it was going to happen, they should have had a plan.

They found the car six hours later, abandoned on Liberty Island, four shapeshifters dead by each other hands. Peter was gone.

She'd made no progress at all with her cortexiphan practicing in the last three weeks. Nothing moved, the lights didn't flicker, no fires happened. She got frustrated and wanted to set Walter on fire, but even that didn't work.

"They have him," Olivia said in the Federal Building, looking at Peter's resigned face on the footage. They had pictures from the parking lot on Staten Island, waiting for the ferry. "They took him just like he said they would." She clenched her jaw.

Every screen in the room shorted out in a shower of sparks. Agents stepped back, went for the fire extinguishers as the sparks hit papers on their desks.

Walter ignored the chaos and said to Olivia, "You should save that for when we get you over to the other side."

Astrid drove her home to Boston. "Don't set the car on fire," Astrid said.

"I can drive," Olivia said. "I don't think I can do anything consciously, Astrid."

"Of course you can drive and you won't set the car on fire," Astrid said. "But I'm worried sick about Peter and I want to feel useful somehow."

"Sorry," Olivia said.

"I wonder what they plan to do to him before they get him in the machine," Astrid said. "Lincoln wondered if maybe they would overwrite him with someone's memories like they did to you."

"There's no alternate Peter," Olivia said.

"Maybe they can get one from another universe," Astrid said. "Of course, if they can do that, why bother with getting this Peter back? Maybe they just wipe all his memories."

"I don't know," Olivia said. Something in her voice made Astrid stop talking for the rest of the drive.

They got to her, to Peter's and her apartment and Astrid walked her up. She fussed in the kitchen. "You should eat," Astrid said.

"We both know I won't," Olivia said.

"I'm at least pouring orange juice and making a coffee so you don't just drink alcohol for dinner," Astrid said.

"I promise not to add anything," Olivia said. She moved everything off the coffee table. There was a note in Peter's weird left-handed handwriting that said 'ingredients for filet mignon plus,' and a list of ingredients. Olivia's eyes watered looking at it. She wanted him home.

Astrid put the two mugs on the coffee table. She said, "I'll be by in the morning, I'm going to check on Walter."

"Thanks, Astrid, you're amazing," Olivia said. She hugged Astrid and was surprised it made her cry again to have her friend's arms around her.

She sat back down and drank all of the orange juice. Then she stared into space. She didn't want to try to get over, she knew very well her apartment was in the middle of amber zone on the other side. On the other hand, if she could bring over a ball of amber, the amber around it would fill in the void she created. It was a way to practice. She needed to get her powers under some sort of conscious control. She envisioned all the things that could be encased in amber, bits of people or dogs or cats or a bird. It made her sick. She threw up orange bile in the bathroom.

She came back, drank the coffee. Then she tried. She thought about Peter and how she loved him and needed him back. She thought about his and Walter's confidence in her. After 30 minutes she had a splitting headache.

After 45 minutes an amber ball appeared in front of her. There was nothing gross in it. It fell into her hand, oddly warm. She could do this.

She moved to what had been her bedroom and tried again. Over the course of two hours, nothing happened except more of a headache. Maybe she was too tense. She drank a glass of wine. She tried again. Nothing happened. She swore. She went into their bathroom and looked at Peter's pills. There were three left in the bottle that had had four when she first saw it. She took one.

She thought about Peter. She had amber balls falling into her hand from everywhere she wanted. She somehow managed to avoid any living thing. Some day, she thought, Peter would fix everything and they would bring the people in Boston out of amber.

She fell asleep on the couch.

She didn't wake up until Astrid was standing over her. "Peter gave me keys," Astrid said. "Nice collection of amber balls."

"I had to take Peter's medicine," Olivia said.

"So it helped," Astrid said.

"I don't think I'll be able to just snatch Peter back," Olivia said. "But I am bringing that medicine with us when we go over."

"You're making progress," Astrid said.

"They've taken him to New York City, we need to go there," Olivia said. "We should have stayed there. We should have gone there immediately."

!

Peter came out of the cotton before they came to get him. He was in a cell of some sort. He concentrated on planting the memory he needed. He placed it when he was five, populating his room like it had been. He explained to each of his stuffed animals what he and Walter had worked out to save the worlds. He told them again and again, modulating his voice in his head, making it more like five year old Peter. He put his mother in there, squatting in a party dress and heels, her hair coiffed. It could have happened. It happened. When he was five he told his stuff animals a complex set of equations and principles that would knit the universes back together. When he was five. On this side.

Most of his life before he was 11 was gone. Everything he remembered from the machine or had come out from the drugs. He couldn't place it. It was just empty. He could see their plan. They would make him forget his mother, forget the peace he'd found with Walter, forget Olivia.

People wheeled him into a lab-like setting. A bright white light was on his face. The drugs were injected. Brandon made a clearly fake apology as he missed the vein three times in a row for the final injection. Peter smirked. "Wrist hurt," he said.

"It's already fixed," Brandon said. Evil Brandon.

The drugs translated to Peter's brain as tendrils, cold but not as unpleasant. Just like his brain was transforming the experience into images he could understand. Instead it was more like an activated synapse teased and wiped clean. Walter's endless discussion of the brain and perception.

The experience was remembering and losing what he remembered. The experience was he was 13, jerking off in the bathroom, thinking of the senior at high school who'd smirked at him, lifted her black mini skirt at him so he could see the sheer underwear she wore and underneath that sheer layer. He came and felt grateful Walter was locked up so no one would critique how he masturbated.

Clarity. Clarity and her brown curly hair, how she was always tan which he never understood until he went to her house and saw the pictures of her mother. Clarity's bitten nails. Her chubby hand on his dick. Her beautiful breasts. "My nipples are weird, aren't they?"

"I like them," he said. Peter tried to rewire. But then there was Clarity, naked, tearfully smiling at him, saying it was alright, it was okay. The next time was better. Then all the times were in his head and gone.

She cried ugly and he was trying to explain he was only 16, what did she expect of him, what did he know of forever, he hated Tennessee.

Clarity had green eyes. She put on black eyeliner before she left the house, she put it on perfectly.

Houston. Rice University. Florencia, she had brown eyes. More brown eyes and brown hair and she wasn't ashamed of any part of her body. She only wore lip gloss, dark purple. A circle of it on his penis once. So much sex, he was losing all his formative sex memories. He was going to suck at it. Paddy bending him over the car. Making out with a cop when he was only 17.

Jamie. No. No. Peter furiously thought of his mother, his father's voice on the phone. Back in Boston, seeing where she was buried. No one had maintained the grave. Peter pulled up weeds, made it look nice. Went back with Tess once. Now he paid someone to keep it looking good. People should walk by and know she was loved.

Mali. Terry said, "Don't tell my dad." Peter insisted they use a condom. The sky. The smell of pony shit. Pony shit that never cleaned off his boots. He burned the boots when he was in Portugal.

Everyone in Manzurka was convinced he was really from Munich. He wasn't American. The old woman who made him breakfast smoked incessantly. He smoked, too, out of defense. It was the only way not to notice the constant smell. His lungs were tough now.

When he was five … he had no idea he would go to India at 23. Peru at 22. All of those skies, vistas. The crushing green of the forest in Canada. He hunched over a computer, Hakeem said, "We can do this, man. You figure out that part, I got the rest."

Astrid. No. Acid. He threw acid towards the door and turned and ran in Baghdad.

They kept him restrained as they wheeled him out, no more hurting Brandon. Brandon said, "He's already resisting, hiding things away. It's going to be worse when we get to recent memories."

"Are you saying you can't do this?" Peter's father's voice like ice.

"It will take time. We should go over what we covered today again tomorrow."

"Do the first sweep of everything, then go back. He'll have less ways to hide," Walter said.

"Of course, sir, you're right."

"Fucking suck up stupid shit," Peter managed to say. Brandon hit him again. Walter said nothing.

!

Lincoln came over with Asher. Something about Asher's simple ease with Lincoln made Olivia's eyes sting. She shouldn't be jealous. Lincoln said, "I have no idea how to work this espresso machine and I bet you don't either, Olivia."

"That's why I'm here," Asher said. "One last latte for you two for the road."

Olivia stayed sitting in the chair by the couch. The one Peter had bought for Walter, it smelled of weed. Lincoln sat down on the couch. "I'm driving to New York City. I packed for a week. Are you planning to sleep in the machine room?"

"Yes," Olivia said with a shrug. "You should get better accommodations."

"No point in staying at the Thompson LES without Asher," Lincoln said. "He'd kill me."

"We are doing that, though, at least once. When Peter is home," Asher said. He brought over their lattes in travel mugs.

"It smells great," Olivia said. She hugged Asher and took her bag downstairs. Everything was going to end now, she thought. It was impossible to shake the thought. Believing the worst would happen had never stopped her from putting one foot in front of the other.

She clutched her mug on the way down but slept fitfully. Then she met Walter, Astrid and Broyles in the machine room. It sat like an ugly modernist sculpture, no hum like when she'd been to see it with Peter. She hated that thing so much.

"We have to be careful here," Walter said. "Anything you draw over could alert them to our coming, dear."

"They know we're coming," Astrid said. "The only element of surprise will be us walking through. We won't walk into people, will we?"

"I don't think so," Walter said. "That is why I am working on my window." He had the same broken thing he had brought to Olivia's apartment after Jacksonville. "We can use it for scouting. Reagan, come over here and help me."

Lincoln smiled at Olivia and followed Walter over to his workspace.

Broyles said, "Agent Dunham, do you think you can do this?"

"Bring me, Walter, Astrid, and Lincoln over, grab Peter and come home? I have no idea. I'm worried if I actually practice, they'll grab me back," Olivia said.

"We can't exactly take over the rest of Liberty Island like they have," Broyles said.

"I know the lab used to be in the gift shop," Olivia said. "I guess I could hang out there after it closes."

"Let's wait on Dr. Bishop's window," Broyles said. "I've brought food, you need to eat."

Olivia wasn't hungry but she knew she should be. Astrid sat down with her, probably to make sure she actually ate.

Astrid said, "I guess we'll know the minute they put Peter in the machine."

"According to everything we've seen, this one will react. It will be like Peter is in both of them at the same time," Olivia said.

Astrid pressed her hands together. "I really miss him. I'm sure you miss him more. I know it's only been a few days, but I keep wanting to tell him how my girlfriend is doing."

Olivia said, "You could tell me."

"I know," Astrid said. "But it's mostly trivial. Peter loves minutiae. He's always so happy to hear about all our arguments over what pictures to hang in the living room if we moved in together. He's weird that way. You know, she has this complete collection of Kate Bush, Tori Amos, women moaning over pianos, and she hates my opera recordings. All of which Walter gave me."

"He thought you'd like them," Olivia said.

"I do like them," Astrid said. "I play them all on my computer when it's just me at home. Sometimes I think I like her, I might love her, but what if I can't play opera while I hate-read reddit?"

Olivia nodded. "I don't get that last part, but living with someone is about setting boundaries and finding out which boundaries you suddenly don't care about."

"You had boundaries?" Astrid looked shocked, with a sly smirk behind it.

"Ha ha," Olivia said. "I thought I couldn't stand sharing a closet but then I didn't care. I like my organization system and Peter's organization system makes no sense to anyone but him. But you know? We just divided the closet in his room in half." Olivia realized she'd eaten most of the sandwich Broyles had given her. Astrid was good at this.

"So what can you do to hone your cortexiphan powers without setting off alarms on the other side?"

"I can set the room on fire," Olivia said. "I can't, though. I had a good night with the amber but I don't know how to do anything else."

"Can you just see to the other side, like Walter's window?"

"I think he said I could, when I was three," Olivia said.

"You're pretty motivated now," Astrid said. "Try."

Olivia thought of Peter and tried to see him. It didn't work. She sighed and closed her eyes. She opened them and focused on the machine. She saw another one, on a taller platform, different room, somewhere beneath them. The room was bigger than she thought. There was a bank of computers. From the other side. Ghostly people walked to and fro.

Her head felt like it would burst.

Astrid said, "Did it work?"

"Yeah," Olivia said. She got up and outlined the parameters she'd seen. Broyles followed Astrid as they marked the room with duct tape.

Walter said, "Should I keep trying? What else should I do?"

"I don't know," Olivia said, almost breaking.

The point was to practice enough she could bring everyone over and she and they would be ready to immediately attack. Walter sat across from her and tried to talk her through practices. Everything made her want to be done. If she could, she would skip ahead two weeks. In two weeks everything would be over.

!

Lincoln was collating information, narrowing down where on Liberty Island Peter Bishop would be and what they might need to do to get him functioning. They could rescue him. They could make sure he was okay and be the ones to put him in the machine.

Broyles slapped his hand down on Lincoln's desk. "Meet me downstairs in five minutes," he said. Lincoln was pretty sure that was an angry meet me downstairs.

He would never give up Liv or Charlie. Mrs. Bishop was protected enough he could admit conspiring with her, he was pretty sure. But only as a last resort, a last explanation wrung from him.

Broyles loomed over him. He said, "What are you doing, Lee?"

"Don't you know?"

"Don't try that with me," Broyles said.

"I think the Secretary kidnapped his son from the other side and is performing experiments on him so he can put his son in his doomsday device," Lincoln said. "What I'm doing is trying to stop him. Me, by myself."

Broyles looked at him with contempt. "We call that treason."

"So be it," Lincoln said, with more conviction in his voice than in his heart. "The Secretary wants to kill billions of people, his son doesn't. If it's treason not to want a whole universe to die, then sure. I'm a traitor."

Broyles simply stared. He finally said, "How much do you know?"

"I'd rather not say," Lincoln said.

"Secretary Bishop has his son on Liberty Island, about 30 floors down. Every day, the Secretary and Dr. Fayette take him into a lab and try to strip his memories away. From what I've heard, Bishop is making it hard for them," Broyles said. "But if you plan to act, you should do it soon."

"Thanks for the advice?" Lincoln had hoped Broyles might be on their side, but he needed a very clear sign before he would trust the man.

"What do you and Dunham have planned?"

"She's not involved," Lincoln said. "Or Charlie."

"So both of them," Broyles said.

"Not at all," Lincoln said. "If you're turning me in, it's just me."

"I'm not turning you in, Agent Lee," Broyles said. "I want to help."

"That's good to hear," Lincoln said.

So Broyles joined them that night as they all got drinks at a teahouse in the small residential area across from Liberty Island. Mrs. Bishop smiled warmly when she saw him and clasped his hands.

"I told them to talk to you," she said.

"When I think treason, I think of my boss," Charlie said. "Sorry, sir."

"Someone has to do it," Mrs. Bishop said. She sipped her tea. "We need to do this tomorrow. Walter came home last night and I heard him talking to that awful Brandon. Peter is putting up a fight, but he can only last so long. If his memory is gone or patchy enough, he'll believe Walter when he tells him to destroy the other side."

"I'll get the location," Broyles said. "We can meet here tomorrow morning."

"I need something stronger than tea," Charlie said.

"Agreed," Lincoln and Liv said together.

The three of them left Mrs. Bishop and Broyles talking seriously. Lincoln wondered at their friendship but he wasn't going to waste his remaining time alive asking Liv about it.

!

Peter stared at the ceiling before Brandon came, thinking when he was five he told his stuffed animals something important.

Yesterday he offered up every concert he'd ever been to, even that U2 one, songs on the radio, hearing Hole in an endless loop in Peru. No more earworms, he thought. There was that.

Today, he decided to give up Tess. She would probably find that typical of him, if they ever compared notes.

The drugs started and he thought, Tess.

She had the hotel room key, she just came in. He'd seen her before, of course he'd seen her, she worked for Big Eddie, he worked for Big Eddie he was working off his debt. He shouldn't have owed anything, the whole thing was rigged. He'd known it was rigged, he'd figured out the trap at same time Big Eddie loomed over and started rattling off numbers. Peter lingered on each number, drawing out the memory.

He'd weighed the options he had and took the easy one. He watched over Big Eddie's games, he caught other cheaters. He calculated interest to be charged. He was almost trusted. He sat around with Michael and pretended not to be disgusted. Once or twice, he did other things. He was even good at them.

One morning he picked a hotel and got a room and went into it and closed the door.

Tess came in, she had a key, she came in and looked at him. They hadn't looked at each other before, Peter thought. She'd been quiet, vicious, brittle, he wondered if she owed money like he did. She didn't seem like much of a natural. She wasn't a hustler or a liar. She wasn't someone who enjoyed other people's pain like Michael. She always wore jeans, skinny jeans before they were everywhere. She liked big sweaters and never wore hats. It snowed and he walked with her, his gloved hands over her head so she wouldn't die of hypothermia. She laughed at him.

She sat down on the bed next to him. They watched cartoons and then marathons of crime shows. Tess found them hilarious. She pointed how little connection to reality they had, "That test would never be done that fast." She told him how she knew people who'd worked on Good Will Hunting. Her cousin's brother-in-law grew up with Matt Damon. She didn't think Ben Affleck was actually that attractive. "Too chiseled for me," she said. She pinched his fat cheeks so he knew she didn't think of him as chiseled at all. She thought he was attractive, that's what she was trying to say.

She didn't nag him to get up. She didn't talk about how much he slept.

When he felt better, he moved into her apartment. The first time they had sex, she made him hold her wrists above her head. She made fun of him when he spooned her at night. But then she didn't. He would get drunk and tell her about Walter and his mother. For some reason. Because he loved her. Because he was so tired. Because he did awful things and he was going to stop and he would be dead and no one would know him.

She got a Brazilian every three weeks. He told her when he'd been in Brazil, the women he'd slept with hadn't had that kind of waxing of their pubic hair. He never told her he slept with more men than women in Brazil, 4 to 2 that first trip, 3 to 1 that second trip. Somehow Brazil tilted his bi more towards gay. It wasn't like that in his head, though. How he defined himself. He spent a solid ten minutes thinking about sexual orientation, how he felt bisexual was the best way to describe his.

He remembered all ten of his Brazilian lovers, picturing them naked, remembering them and their faces. How that one refused to give head on his knees, that girl who said he had an average dick.

He lingered on memory after memory. Sex, Brazil, Tess. Tess huddled in his arms one night after she'd almost been arrested, talking about how her father had been in and out of prison. "I'm glad mine has never gotten out," Peter had said.

Tess loved when he used her vibrator on her while he fucked her. Her legs would tremble for minutes after she came when they did that.

She was angry. She slammed doors. She said, "I know what you're doing, Peter."

He had quit helping Big Eddie. He had a plan to get the money. He would get the money and come back for her. He tried to tell her that without giving away that he had to leave.

This wasn't him. He was an amoral motherfucker who didn't care about 99% of the people he met on a regular basis, but intentionally inflicting harm wasn't his speed. Do little harm, do no good, leave no traces.

He packed up and left while she was getting her Brazilian wax.

"Nothing," Brandon said. "We're not even close to the parts we need to get rid of."

Walter wasn't in the room, because Brandon hit Peter in the dick and balls. It was agony. Peter clawed out at random and heard Brandon swearing, felt blood under his nails. "I'll remember that, dipshit," Peter said.

!

Liv pinned Lincoln to the bed. "This is almost probably our last time to do this," she said.

"Be more positive," Lincoln said. "Maybe we can sneak a quickie before we're executed."

It wasn't their usual, but she straddled his lap, riding his dick, so she could look in his eyes the whole time. They kept kissing and touching each other. When she came she cried. Lincoln probably did, too, but she was clinging to his neck, looking over his shoulder. Lincoln watched her get dressed, still laying on the bed and he said, "We should have asked Charlie to join in."

Liv smiled at her precious idiot. She said, "We'll invite him for the quickie." She was almost positive Lincoln was more attracted to Charlie than she was.

She couldn't believe she was spending her last night in Lincoln's arms. It goes to show, she thought, you never know where life will take you or how you go out.

They met at the same tea house. Everyone was in black, even Elizabeth. She wore sensible slacks that were probably wool, and very pricey high tech sneakers. For the first time Liv had known her, Elizabeth even had lipstick on.

Charlie said, "We have a plan?"

"I'll distract my husband for 15 minutes while Philip gets you three down to the most secure level. Then I'll try to join you," Elizabeth said.

"We're going to need you," Liv said. "He's not going to respond to any of us like he will to you."

"He only hates you, Liv," Lincoln said.

"He respects Broyles on his side, but if Elizabeth isn't there, we'll have to go with Charlie," Liv said.

"Me?" Charlie adjusted something in his boot. Probably a knife.

"He really cared about the Charlie on his side," Liv said.

"I'm very memorable," Charlie said. "Right, you told me, dead Charlie Francis on their side."

Broyles said, "I'll signal you, Elizabeth, when we find Peter."

"Whatever happens, we make sure he's in favor of not destroying the world, ours or his, and then take him to the machine," Lincoln said.

"What if he's too brain damaged?" Charlie said.

"My husband wouldn't do that to Peter, he needs him in that machine," Elizabeth said. "I suppose, in the worst case scenario, we take him somewhere to recuperate or try to send him to his home."

"We should avoid killing anyone," Broyles said. "It will set off too many alarms."

They all nodded and then they made their way to Liberty Island. Liv hugged Elizabeth before they parted ways. She said, "We're probably going to fail."

Elizabeth said, "It's okay, I've already had the worst day of my life. Several of them, actually. I can take it." She smiled.

Liv, like Lincoln and Charlie, walked behind Broyles with a neutral to bored expression on her face. They weren't doing anything sneaky. It was regular any old day for these Fringe agents.

Miraculously, they were able to get into the level where the Machine and Peter were being kept. Lincoln fiddled with a pad by the exit door to get the schematics and then said, "I think Peter's in room five. Or he's in the lab, which is room seven. Room ten is at the very end of this corridor, and that's where the machine is. There's a second entrance to room ten, I think it's a private one for the Secretary."

Broyles gestured and all four of them hid themselves in room one. Liv heard noise outside. "They're taking him to the lab," Broyles whispered.

Room one had nothing in it. It was clearly meant for other subjects. Liv wondered how many experiments the Secretary and Dr. Fayette had done down here. Every minute one of them would do a quick glance outside through the small window in the door.

"Two guards," Liv said. "It's still two guards."

"They could be succeeding in getting Peter to want to save our side only right now," Charlie said.

Broyles brooded. He said, "We don't know how many are inside that room, if we just take out the guards and then go in… "

Since they were trapped in the room, Elizabeth was able to join them, stealthily. Liv was surprised the guards missed her. Small lucky breaks. She said, "I don't know why Walter hadn't gone in there yet."

"What if we let Mrs. Bishop scout the room for us?" Charlie said.

Lincoln said, "Just send her out there and have her kill the guards?"

"No," Liv said. "She bangs on the door, demands to see her son, they open up, she calls back to us what we should expect."

Elizabeth said, "If I bang on the door, and Dr. Fayette hears me, what makes you think he doesn't immediately alert my husband?"

Broyles said, "Do we want to wait until they're done wiping Peter's brain?"

"I don't," Charlie said. "But it's up to you, Mrs. Bishop."

"Well then," Elizabeth said. She tapped her cuff, and made sure that all of them would hear her and what happened to her. There was no fear in her walk.

!

When Peter was in Vulvagrad a man came to visit him. The hotel had small rooms and impossibly tall ceilings. Once this floor had been a ballroom, he'd thought. He took ballroom dancing lessons at his mother's insistence. Thirteen and short, not even 5'6", with girls who towered over him but told him he was cute. "Nice hair," one girl had said, actually meaning it.

Big hair. He'd had big hair.

He smoked awful cigarettes in Peru, just for the brief rush. He spat out dark mucus-y spit for weeks afterward.

The tendrils increased. Brandon was upping the drugs again.

Someone came to visit him in Vulvagrad. He looked like a white man, black curly hair, harsh gaze. He was judge-y. He said, "You're Walter Bishop's son."

Last time someone said that him, it was an accusation.

This had been that last time. The man had Parkinson's, something that made him shake. He'd yelled at Peter for not knowing anything, for being so weak. "Pragmatism is weakness, compromise is weakness," the man had ranted. "You don't understand the importance of conviction, having principles."

"True, true," Peter said. He lit a cigarette and offered one to shakey guy. The man slapped him and stormed out.

"Mom, I just want to sleep today," and she said, okay. Her eyes were always so kind.

Shitty cigarettes. Another time gone. Vulvagrad. A motel in Boston -

Baghdad every time he'd been there. Sometimes he'd smoked, sometimes he didn't. He made friends. He'd started out honestly enough, fake engineering degree and all. It was a den of thieves and exploitation and Peter hated the smug oily Americans who weren't military but something else. He hated everyone. There was a girl who worked as a receptionist to the contractors he was fleecing. He remembered every detail of the six times they'd had sex.

Don't ask don't tell, there were two Army men. Peter took pleasure in remembering those times.

He came and left four times before the last time.

The first time he did real work, until he realized the contractor who was paying him was ripping off every single Iraqi he met and hundreds he hadn't. The man had a horrible mustache. Peter had enjoyed fleecing him. He'd used the money to go to Sweden and vacation. When he blew through all of it, he went back again, new name. Nothing had changed. He scammed the Americans, the native assholes. He lacked principles but he wasn't so bad. Until the fourth time, until he got those three women killed.

He pictured their faces. They were supposed to get out. Peter had told everyone to get out. He tried to tell everyone. He let everyone think he was dead rather than admit he hadn't told everyone. He had tried. He went to Vulvagrad.

The ceiling in Vulvagrad's hotel room was too high. If he stood on his bed and jumped high as he could, he couldn't touch the ceiling. He only tried once.

Hotels he'd been in. Walter and the couch and he sang.

The first hotel he remembered was when he was four in Australia. Again when he was 16. Three hotels that year. Ten hotels when he was 17. Thirty hotels when he was 18. He pictured each one, lingering on the details. Wallpaper. Bedspreads. The texture of the mattress. The view from the window. The size of the TV.

He had starting thinking of Star Trek episodes, original series, next generation, deep space nine, he'd gone to see the reboot two years ago with Walter. He went back to each episode he remembered.

The drugs increased again. He tasted blood and thought about food. Birthday cakes. What had he eaten in Peru. His thoughts burned. He thought about food. He'd bitten his lip. All the ways he'd hurt himself in his teen years. When he was in his twenties. He'd been beaten. Someone had crashed into his car on purpose. Someone threw him off a boat and he almost drowned. His wool sweater soaked to his body.

He was on fire. He'd never been on fire. His brain was on fire. Someone had broken every finger on his right hand. He'd had it fixed and laughed at the man who never even fucking noticed Peter was left handed.

He couldn't even think.

Walter said, "What are you doing, you idiot?"

!

Olivia pictured Peter, the last time she'd seen him. She kept getting confused, she saw Peter in Iraq, over her hospital bed, glimmering. Peter, she thought. She focused. She couldn't sense him.

"But we know where to go," Astrid said. She strapped on her body armor.

Astrid came around and tightened the straps on Olivia's body armor. "It won't help," Olivia said. She dry swallowed the last of Peter's pills. She'd tried to ask Dr. Felton about the prescription but the damned doctor didn't feel comfortable prescribing for Olivia without talking to her. Even when Olivia nearly cried at how she needed to get Peter back. "I want to keep you alive," Dr. Felton said. Like she thought that wasn't one of Olivia's priorities.

Maybe it wasn't.

"Thanks for the inspirational words," Lincoln said. He somehow smiled at her.

Walter looked ridiculous in his body armor. Maybe it was the ancient cardigan he'd insisted on wearing under it.

Broyles said, "Let's go over this one more time."

"We can't dig down enough to just walk over to where they're holding Peter," Astrid said. "We have the layout of the room where their machine is, though, thanks to Olivia."

"We're going to come out in a corridor, we're going to shoot a bunch of people and take an elevator to the bottom," Lincoln said. "Walter will give us that clearance since he's genetically identical to the Secretary."

"But I might not pass the tests, depending on how sophisticated they are, after all, Walternate and I have entirely different physical experiences, different environments that leave their mark on the fingerprints and the skin," Walter said.

"Walter is going to stop thinking of the worst outcome," Olivia said. "Not out loud, Walter."

"Then we just go through everything in front of us until we get Peter," Astrid said.

"I may not be able to help more than shooting things," Olivia said. "To get us all over is going to be a strain."

"Shooting things is incredibly helpful," Lincoln said.

Broyles said, "What do you do when you get Peter?"

"Evaluate him," Walter said. "Who knows how they've tortured him."

"Get him into the machine if he can do it, otherwise bring him home to get him back in shape to get in the machine on this side," Astrid said. "Please, Walter, we all know you're worried, but if you could not say so much of it out loud?"

Olivia concentrated for a moment on Astrid's strained, kind voice.

"Okay, it's time," she said. "I hope we come back," she said to Broyles.

"I have faith in you, Agent Dunham," Broyles said. His expression was so soft. She wanted to hug him but she couldn't break. Not yet.

They held hands in a square. Olivia dropped Astrid's hand and took the syringe of cortexiphan out of her pocket, plunging it in her thigh. She grabbed Astrid's hand again before she had to hear anyone object. She threw her head back and let her already boiling blood take her back.

They were all staggering against the walls in the bowels of Liberty Island. On the other side. "I figured that would work," Olivia said, pushing herself upright.

Walter said, "That was very unsafe, Olivia. I shouldn't have let you talk me into making it. I thought you would use it here to get us home."

"Nope," Olivia said. She felt like a dragon. Astrid and Lincoln were standing, if a little wobbly. "Now, Walter, put your hand there."

Despite Walter's protestations, when he finally did it, the elevator opened.

In the elevator, Astrid glared at Walter. He said in a firm voice, "Take me down to the machine."

To Olivia's surprise, it worked.

Olivia was less surprised when they reached the bottom and the elevator doors opened to a row of about five guards, pointing weapons at them. "Surrender," one of them shouted.

She let her blood crackle and spin. She wanted Peter. She had to get to Peter. The guards' weapons sparked and blew up, knocking them all down.

"Cortexiphan is strong stuff," Lincoln said. "Are you okay, Olivia?"

"So far," she said. She didn't look to close at the dead guards and their melted faces. She had done that. She would have done worse. She was ready to picture every single one of them on fire. She was going to save Peter. She wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

"We don't need to kill everyone, though," Astrid said. "To be clear."

Olivia smiled. "I know. I know."

They heard shouting and shots. They ran towards the end of the corridor.

!

Lincoln heard sounds over the cuff as Elizabeth stormed into the lab. The Secretary was already there, yelling at Dr. Fayette about doing too much. Elizabeth said, "What are you doing to my son?"

The four of them exchanged glances as they heard the Secretary angrily dismissing his wife. Elizabeth said, "You, Dr. Fayette, those three people, those guards, what are you doing to my son?"

"Thank you," Liv said, clearly visualizing the layout.

Broyles whispered, "Get all of them out of the room."

Elizabeth grunted, telling someone to get off of her. Then she said, "I won't let you do this to my son. I am taking this, Walter, I am taking this and destroying your damn machine."

Peeking out the window, Lincoln saw her running, the guards, the Secretary, two lab technicians running after her. "Damn, that lady is good," Charlie said.

The four of them went quietly out of the room they'd been hiding in and then went into the room where Peter was being kept. The remaining lab technician had only started to raise a gun when Liv shot him in the neck. Then she trained her gun on Dr. Fayette. "Hands up," Liv said.

Charlie ripped off Fayette's cuff and then took off the man's coat, patted him down. Fayette glared at them. "This is treason."

"You're the one committing a crime," Broyles said. He began removing wires and sensors from Peter Bishop and Lincoln joined him. The Secretary's son, Lincoln thought, looked awful. He had bruises on his arms from bad needle insertions. Someone had done that on purpose. Lincoln definitely felt like he was the hotter of Liv's sexual partners in the room. It was uncharitable and petty. Hell, he was going to die soon enough, might as well go out being himself. He was definitely hotter than Peter Bishop at that moment.

Bishop's eyes were open, unfocused. Broyles said, "Peter. Peter."

Bishop said, "Broyles. Other Broyles. You helped Olivia." He mumbled the last part but Lincoln saw Broyles nod slightly. That was good news, Lincoln thought. He was glad someone had helped her. He would have if he'd known.

Lincoln found a pair of scrub pants and got them on Bishop. He felt the next twenty minutes, likely the last twenty of Lincoln's life, would go better not looking at Peter Bishop's dick.

Peter worked his way up to sitting up. He saw Liv and glared. Liv didn't take her eyes off Fayette.

Peter said, "When I was five."

Fayette lunged and Liv shot him in the forehead.

"That doesn't make me forgive you," Peter said, "but I really appreciate you killing him."

Peter scooched off the table. When he tried to stand, he did it badly. Charlie went to his side and held him up. "Hey, buddy," Charlie said. "Are you ready to go in that machine or are you thinking, hey, let's kill a universe or two?"

"When I was five," Peter said. "I know what to do."

"Why do you keep saying when you were five?" Liv said it quietly, but it was hard to miss the way Peter seemed to instinctively snarl at her voice.

"They took my memories," Peter said. "Brandon was really unhappy I refused to think about the things he wanted me to think about." He smirked. "Walter and I."

Peter passed out and nearly took Charlie down with him. Lincoln went to the cabinets and rooted through them. He found a stimulant and loaded up a lot of it into a syringe. "Sorry, Pete," Lincoln said, injecting him in the shoulder.

Peter woke up again, breathing fast. "The fuck was that?"

"A little wake up call," Lincoln said.

Peter turned up and looked up at him, smiling. "Thank you."

He still needed Charlie's help to stand. He said, "They were taking my memories. I made myself believe, remember, that when I was five I explained everything to my stuffed animals. Walter and I worked out what we probably need to do in the machine to fix both universes. So yes, I remember and take me to it." He looked down. "Was my mom here?"

"Yes," Broyles said.

They were walking slowly to the machine room. Lincoln turned as he heard running behind him. Charlie said, "The other cavalry is here."

!

Olivia wasn't sure how she got from her end of the corridor to pulling Peter into her arms. She said, "I love you."

"Me, too," Peter said. She realized she was holding him up. "I didn't forget you," he said.

Walter was patting Peter's back, repeating "Good boy, good boy."

The other Broyles said, "We need to get to the machine room at the end of this corridor."

"Mom's there," Peter said, his eyes unfocused.

Olivia said, "Are you okay?"

"Not really, but good enough to get into the machine. I think so," Peter said. "Hey guys."

Olivia glanced at everyone around them. Lincoln and Lincoln were regarding each other suspiciously. Astrid looked like she wanted to slap the other Olivia, which Olivia really wanted to do, too.

She smiled at Charlie. "Good to see you again."

"This isn't awkward at all," Charlie said.

"We need to get moving," Astrid said. "Is there anyone in that room who might have alerted anyone in the machine room?"

"No," Liv said.

"I hate her a little less now that she killed Brandon," Peter said. He kissed Olivia and turned to look at Walter. "Hey, Walter."

"Let's go," Walter said, still patting Peter's back.

"Yes," Broyles said. "Let's move."

Olivia almost smiled at how everyone responded to Broyles, even Astrid and her Lincoln.

Her Lincoln said, "What can we expect in that room?"

The other Lincoln described the layout he'd found in the schematic. He said, "We know there are about ten of the Secretary's guards already in there, plus the Secretary, two additional guards, two lab technicians, and Mrs. Bishop. She took a container of acid and threatened to throw it at the machine."

"Well, that wouldn't work," Walter said. "A noble effort, but the kind of acid she'd have found in the lab wouldn't affect the machine at all. I hope she's all right."

"Me, too," the other Olivia said. Olivia tightened her grip on Peter and concentrated ahead, so she didn't accidentally fry the other woman with her exploding cortexiphan powers. It was tempting.

"I didn't forget you," Peter murmured. "They really tried."

"Good boy," Walter said.

They rearranged themselves as they approached the machine room, Peter and Walter to the back with Olivia, everyone else to the front. The other Olivia took the lead.

"This is very weird," her Lincoln said.

Olivia transferred Peter's weight to Walter. She looked at the arm he'd had around her and saw the painful looking marks there. She decided she hated the other Olivia a little less, too, for killing Brandon.

They moved into the room quietly but were immediately noticed. The twelve heavily armed guards were positioned around the room, a long room with the machine on a platform towards the back. The two lab technicians looked scared and confused in one corner. The Secretary was halfway into the room, looming over Mrs. Bishop who was on her knees but didn't look cowed at all. Olivia noticed a stain of acid bubbling about a foot away from the two.

"Kill everyone but my son," the Secretary said.

"Oh good, a firefight," the other Olivia said. She quickly drew a second gun.

!

Liv looked, took a breath, and shot the three guards who had the best position on them. Her team and the other team scattered as the first volley of shots came from the remaining nine.

Liv positioned herself in front of the trio of important people who hated her. Olivia said, "We need to get Peter to the machine."

"And save Mom," Peter said.

Liv looked back at the other Olivia. Liv said, "You cover these two, I'll get Elizabeth."

Liv sprinted to Elizabeth, who had just punched her husband in the thigh. She loved that lady. The Secretary drew a gun and placed it at her forehead. "I don't want to do this," he said. He called out, "Peter, don't move or I will shoot."

Liv raised her gun and aimed. She hesitated. The Secretary fell from a shot in his leg and another in his shoulder. Everyone looked shocked, the guards, all of Liv's team. The other Lincoln said, "Peter, move," gesturing with the gun that made the shots.

Another round of shots echoed around the room. Liv did a second assessment. Charlie, the other Astrid, and Broyles were all bleeding but none of them looked seriously hurt. All the guards were down, dead or disabled. Walter ran over to Elizabeth but stood next to her, shaking. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head and stood up. They both ignored the Secretary, lying there wounded. Lincoln walked over and kicked the Secretary's gun away. He stood watch over the man, looking nervous.

Liv said, "I can't believe we're all not dead."

She walked over and stood next to Lincoln. He smiled at her. "I still want that pre-execution quickie."

Liv said, "Hey, Charlie, get your butt over here."

She looked around and felt the crash of all the adrenaline in her system. Peter and Olivia were still walking towards the machine.

!

Peter focused. It was a tremendous effort. He reached for his mother. He hugged her. "Thank you," he said. "My mother on the other side wasn't weak. I've been feeling bad for a year about that."

"I never thought you meant it," his mother said.

He hugged Walter, said, "I love you," repeated the action and the speech with Olivia, adding in a kiss.

"Okay," he said, like saying it would bring him more focus. Olivia held his arm. He said, "Okay," again and climbed on top of the platform. The machine shifted like it had last time, waiting for him. This was the time.

The machine welcomed him, opened up to him. Peter found it much easier to focus on the theoretical quantum physics he'd been learning for weeks. He clasped the holds for his hands. The first shock hit him. He would do this right.

!

Even as the machine hummed to bright sparkly light with Bishop inside it, Lincoln tried to focus on the chaos around him. His alternate had casually shot the Secretary. One of the less injured guards was administering first aid to the man while he stared at his son in that fucking machine. Liv and Broyles were watching the machine as well, but as they gathered all the living guards and made sure they wouldn't move.

Lincoln, like his alternate and the other Astrid, watched the machine. The Olivia Lincoln had worked with for months and not even known it wasn't his Liv, she was trembling and barely standing. The other Walter Bishop held her up.

The glow stopped after a minute and Peter smiled down at his girlfriend. He said, "Walter, I think I got it. This room is linked to the room in our world and I was knitting, perling. I think I got it."

Lincoln could see a whole other room suddenly grafted onto this room. Another Broyles was staring, shocked, up at the machine.

"Now come down," Olivia said.

"Almost done," Peter said. His head fell back and light shot from his eyes. His chest shimmered and then it was like he fell to pieces, to dust.

Disintegrated was the word, Lincoln thought. People were screaming, or crying. Olivia had gotten onto the platform where the machine was. There was dust in her hand.

"Oh," Lincoln said. He had no idea what to do. Neither Broyles seemed to, either.

Then the other Broyles said, "Olivia," striding across the room and pulling her to his chest. "We have a lot to do now."


	9. where do I live when you disappear?

References to suicide.

* * *

It took two hours for everyone to put themselves back together and start in this brave new world. The other Broyles was the first to start organizing, a few minutes after Peter Bishop had died. Lincoln snapped to attention at his voice. Charlie and Liv did as well. Lincoln's Broyles stared for a few moments, and started to tend to the bleeding Secretary until the medical team came.

The other Astrid and other Lincoln seemed to have deputized themselves to make sure the hysterical Walter and deflated Olivia were taken care of. Lincoln didn't even notice when those four left.

He saw Liv go to Mrs. Bishop and the two of them left the Bridge room as well. After that, Lincoln just remembered working. Ordering people around. Moving out bodies. Opening security measures so the room was as accessible as possible.

He went somewhere and slept. Then he reported to the same Bridge room. Broyles, one of them, had ordered scientists, hopefully trusted ones, to set up in the room and start analyzing. Someone talked about making sure no diseases crossed universes.

The Secretary sat in his hospital bed and resigned from his position, from everything. He also wrote a long list of the people who'd worked for him, the bad kind, the sort of people he didn't think should continue working at their jobs. Lincoln thought it was a vicious, petty gesture. He wondered what his mother thought of it. He forgot to ask her when he finally called her. What would Lincoln's dad have said?

It was a bomb thrown in the hastily-called world governing councils on Lincoln's side, and UN Security Council on the other side. Even worse, on the other side, only a few countries, and only parts of their governments, even knew there was another universe. Two of the deputy Secretaries of Defense on this side were trying to cover Bishop's absence. Broyles was helping codify structures and procedures.

The world was so chaotic, Broyles handed Lincoln the charge of assessing the ex-Secretary's list of people who should be fired. Lincoln was given the authority to fire or imprison whomever he thought deserved it. At least ten of them had already fled the country, which was not a good sign. At the same time, Lincoln realized as he looked over the long list, it was a kind of blessing.

He chose Astrid as his helper. He appreciated her singular perspective and anyone who treated her with any of the old prejudices about her personality and skills would go immediately on the fire list.

While Liv and Charlie tried to keep Fringe running, Lincoln sat in interviews and reviewed records with Astrid. Then he went home and Liv stayed at her apartment and wouldn't come over to his place, "not when you're like this."

He was sure it was a bullshit reason, but he wouldn't get anywhere challenging her on it exactly then.

So he went home and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the things his department had been doing. He inhaled and thought about how he would answer "where you will be in ten years?" now that the answer probably wasn't "dead." He couldn't stand to turn on his newsfeed.

He called his mother to report that he was alive. She said she was going to marry her poet. "We actually have our lives ahead of us, don't we?"

"So you're getting married?"

"You should do the same," his mother said. "I like that Liv girl."

"We'll see. We have our whole lives ahead of us," Lincoln said.

When he got off the phone he could barely sleep, too many thoughts barely articulated, barely formed, going nowhere. Liv would tell him he was a poet but she wasn't there, of course.

!

Olivia was useless to Broyles. She should have been better. But they had almost saved him. It was a circle of uselessness. She thought about it anyway. Maybe Peter would have survived if he had gone into the machine without his father drugging him. Maybe Peter would have survived if he had gone into the machine on this side. Maybe if she had done just one more thing.

She explained to Dr. Felton why Peter would miss his appointment. The woman sobbed in her ear and Olivia hung up abruptly.

She sat with Walter who was miserable and crying constantly. "What do we do now?" He would look at her like she knew.

She did the same for him as she had for Rachel when their mother died, she made him food and told him to go to the bathroom and gave him water to drink. Unlike Rachel, Walter smoked a lot of weed. He took care of Gene. She heard him yell at the cow once for not liking Peter, then weepily apologizing.

Neither of them went home from the lab.

Walter started talking about ways they could reverse everything. He could rebuild his time machine. He could fix it. They could try to find his consciousness. The ashes in the machine had been Peter's, maybe they could clone him.

Olivia said, "Walter. Stop. Peter wouldn't want that."

"I know," Walter said. "But he was my son."

Olivia drove Walter to his house and then she went to her apartment. She had to call Rachel. But then it would be real. She could wait.

She fell asleep on the couch. She thought she would never fall in love again.

She woke up when Astrid let herself in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Astrid said. "I thought I could be quieter."

"I wasn't sleeping very well anyway," Olivia said. "Are you here to feed me?"

"I was going to drop off some food," Astrid said.

Astrid leaned against the counter. She rubbed her face and Olivia looked away. Astrid crying was too personal. Astrid said, "Lincoln and I switched off this time, he has Walter. I get you. I can't, it's easier to miss Peter with you."

Olivia tried to speak, but couldn't think of any words.

She slept, she woke up, she barely ate. She went into work to have something to do but they didn't really have any work. There were cases. Lincoln and Astrid did those. She would do reports, listen to them talk and then her eyes would wander to something and she would think of Peter. She remembered so much of him in this lab.

She went back to paper work. She could do paper work. Walter was still useless. Olivia could do paperwork. Lincoln and Astrid had arranged to get boxes of unsolved cases from the other side and send over boxes of unsolved cases from their side. Maybe between both sides they could discover a solution.

Olivia picked through the other side's files, setting aside the things she remembered and the ones that looked familiar.

She found the matching cases between Mr. Ottoli and the doctor on the other side who'd been ambered. It didn't immediately offer an explanation, but she created a joint report, sent to both Broyles for consideration. At the very least, if they could find traces of the mysterious Russian on the other side's extensive CCTV.

They didn't get back to her immediately so she moved to the next unsolved case and the next one.

!

Liv sat in her apartment and rubbed her forehead. They were all going to be like everyone had been on the other side. They were all going to live. Everyone lives, she thought. In five years, Liv very well might not be dead.

She couldn't sleep. She dreamed of the same things over and over again; Peter trying to kill her, Peter disappearing. She didn't think being near Lincoln would help that. She had a moment where she thought she could never atone to Peter or say she was sorry. She wasn't sorry. Mostly she wasn't sorry.

Not that she could be with Lincoln if she made the effort. He was too busy remaking the government. Broyles was never in his office.

She came into work and only knew half the agents. Even Charlie was off doing something. He'd apparently proposed to Bug Lady.

There were still Fringe cases and somehow she was the most senior agent sent out to deal.

Today's report was of a man who was shot by the police, multiple times, bled mercury, and got up and kept running. "I know what that is," Liv said. She took the two agents she'd known the longest (two weeks, three weeks) and took over the case probably by virtue of just opening her mouth.

"What we're looking for is a shapeshifter. They were created by our side to travel to the other side. They're not human, they're organic parts and computer bits," Liv said to them. "They have a machine that lets them change their shape to that of a person they killed. They also absorb the memories and thoughts and even the feelings of the person. But they're soldiers. They're not people. They always have a mission. It seems like no one's giving them a mission anymore. This isn't the other side so I have no idea what one would be doing here."

The female agent (what was her name?) said, "Why would we, we made those things?"

"We made those things for years," Liv said. "Sent them to the other side for information. They killed and spied and infiltrated." She smiled for no reason. She probably wasn't going to die in five years. No one would be sending those monsters to the other side anymore. Neither Charlie nor Lincoln were chiming in, because, of course, they weren't there."I bet this is an anomaly, someone who just got fired is trying to make a power grab. We can take them down with a little effort."

"How do you kill them?" That was the male agent, she was sure his name was Danzig.

"Shoot them in the middle of the forehead. Only way. You could blow them up, I guess, but a bullet in the forehead is the best way for us to figure out who's doing this," Liv said.

"Any chance that one came over from the other side?" Female agent had a name that started with a W.

"They can't, unless they used, unless they came over the new way. They wouldn't get through the security," Liv said. "We can rule that out. But go check with the security team there anyway. Just for anything anomalous."

Liv consulted with Astrid's replacement about any signs of breaches since the machine. Her name was Linnea. Liv would have said to Lincoln that having a beautiful name was apparently a requirement for being a Looker. He would have said it was certainly prettier than Olivia. He wouldn't have meant it.

They followed the mercury trail until it ended. The apartment building where the mercury trail had ended had a dead body on the second floor. Liv recognized the condition of the corpse. "We need to find this guy who is now an Asian woman," she said over her cuff to Linnea.

"Acknowledged," she heard.

Three minutes later they had a location. Liv waved the other two to flank the shapeshifter. She called out, "Who set you loose out here?"

"I have no master," the shapeshifter said. She lunged for Liv but only got so far as raising her foot before she fell forward from Liv's shot.

Liv and her two new partners collected the shapeshifter's machine. "If there's still anyone working in Science division, we should be able to use this to find out who sent this one." Then she remembered and dug out the memory disk from the thing's spine. If the Science division was too busy, she remembered that Massive Dynamic on the other side had decrypted one of these machines before. She bet Nina would take her call. That woman had no sides in any fight but survival.

Then they waited for two hours for the clean up crew to arrive. The crew looked exhausted. "Sorry," Liv said, instead of complaining. Everyone was busy.

She went home to her own apartment and watched the news. More revelations she already knew about the Secretary's secret campaigns. More suicides. Another ten minute special about ways to adapt to the idea of things really getting better. They were showing those every five hours.

In the morning, she tried to do all the things Lincoln would have been doing, calling people, tracing the tech the shapeshifter had, trying to figure out the shapeshifter's point of entry. She could do it, she told herself. Everything would get better.

She took off for lunch and sat across from Elizabeth. Mrs Bishop said, "I have finally filed for divorce. I imagine you're wondering why I haven't done so before."

"I guess," Liv said. "But ending a relationship with the father of your child, one you had gone through so much with, that's not easy."

"We didn't go through it together," Mrs. Bishop said. "I don't think he blamed me, not even subconsciously, but I felt I was at fault, and he felt he had been robbed. They are different emotions."

"I don't know," Liv said. "I probably won't ever know, I can't have kids."

Mrs. Bishop covered her hand. She said, "If you want to be a parent, there is more than one way to do that."

"I keep, I wonder if Lincoln does? It didn't matter two weeks ago, but now it's a real thing that he might want," Liv said.

"He wants you more," Mrs. Bishop said. "Besides, once you two talk about it, I'm sure you'll find what you want to do."

Liv said, smiling, "Do all of your friends complain about their boyfriends to you?"

"No," Mrs. Bishop said, with a sly smile. "But I have more friends now, don't I? I shall have to practice my compassionate face and there, there advice."

"I hope you can still find time for me," Liv said, meaning to be joking and casual.

Mrs. Bishop looked sad and patted her hand. "Always, dear."

!

Olivia wasn't pregnant. She didn't think she would be but she had hoped. She had sort of hoped. It would have been nice. She was completely unprepared to be a mother, she couldn't think of doing it without Peter. It would have been nice. She rubbed her traitorous stomach, hating her own body. Maybe it was meant to be full, whatever _meant to be_ meant anymore. If Walter from the future had built the machine, why would he build something that would kill Peter? Could they go forward in time and tell that Walter to not do it the way he did? Peter would call that ridiculous.

She came out of the bathroom and sat down on the couch. Peter's mother was sitting in the chair, looking through the books. "I don't expect you to entertain me," Mrs. Bishop said.

"That's good, I'm not very entertaining," Olivia said. Mrs. Bishop looked like Peter in some ways, in every way she was beautiful. Olivia remembered seeing her in the Bridge room. Broyles had gotten a message from the other Broyles about Mrs. Bishop coming over and Olivia had said yes. She knew Mrs. Bishop had gone to see Walter, too. She hoped he wasn't completely breaking down.

Olivia thought it would be nice to be with someone else who loved Peter but nothing was nice.

"Thank you for letting me see all this," Mrs. Bishop said.

"He was your son," Olivia said. She wiped at her face. "I think I'm going to nap, wake me if you need anything." She went into the 2nd bedroom. It was stupid, but she couldn't face changing the sheets on their bed or any of the mechanics of letting Peter go. It had been three weeks. Nothing probably even smelled like him.

She fell asleep quickly. Waking up was what she hated to do. She wished she was back at work, that she had enough work to fill every hour.

Mrs. Bishop had covered Olivia with a second blanket and made tea that was waiting for her when Olivia woke up. Mrs. Bishop said, "I know you don't care, but the environmental degradation is already improving. It wasn't for nothing, however small solace that is."

"It's small," Olivia said. "I don't mean to be Walter, but most days I'd rather have Peter than the universe."

"I appreciate that," Mrs. Bishop said. "You're not very similar to your counterpart on my side."

"No," Olivia said. "We're incredibly similar. Trust me, I've been her."

"She never knew that would happen," Mrs. Bishop said.

"I'm not up for listening to her defense," Olivia said.

"I won't make one," Mrs. Bishop said. "You made my son happy, he loved you."

"He loved you so much," Olivia said, hugging the woman.

Mrs. Bishop was gone and Olivia kept to her circumscribed parts of the apartment. This slice of the kitchen was okay. This part of the living room didn't make her sad. She was a mess and hated herself for it.

!

Lincoln had fired, cleared, or arrested about 75% of the ex-Secretary's list. Broyles was almost back to work after day after day of meetings to make the new world work. Nearly three weeks of non-stop work. Lincoln thought of the way his father once summed up his day: staring into the abyss, worrying the abyss would look back and claim him.

Lincoln said, "Astrid's been amazing, she deserves a commendation for this."

"She spoke to me already, she never wants to be involved in anything like this again," Broyles said.

"Sure, but she's been a great help," Lincoln said.

"Thanks for letting me know," Broyles said. Lincoln gave his progress report.

Broyles shook his head and covered his eyes.

"I know," Lincoln said. "I had no idea."

Broyles looked up and Lincoln felt presumptuous. "I'm not surprised at things people will do when they're convinced they're saving the world," Broyles said.

"Some of these people didn't care about the world, they wanted license for their sadism," Lincoln said.

"Those kind of people are present in every government and every movement. They look for ways to survive and get what they want, just like the rest of us," Broyles said.

"We should be weeding them out," Lincoln said.

"We tried before, we're doing it now," Broyles said. He stood up and said, "I'm going home to my children. You should at least leave this building."

!

Danzig brought her the report on the third shapeshifter to show up, another belligerent one. Liv put her feet up on her desk and said, "This is nuts."

"You said they couldn't cross over," Danzig said. He didn't sound accusing, but Liv took it that way for a moment.

"I only know one person who could bring people over to this side from there, and she wouldn't do this," Liv said. She inhaled and actually pictured how Olivia might be doing. The love of her life was dead. Was she hiding everything inside, waiting to crack? Probably, Liv thought. She felt a clutch at her chest and her shoulders ached. Peter had made her breakfast in bed. He'd been happy with her lie, happy with her. She scratched her forehead.

"Maybe you don't know everyone who can bring people over," Wella said.

"Yeah," Liv said. Peter had told her about the Russian experiments once, she remembered because she remembered the extraction of the memory. They knew there were more than Bishop and Bell exploring the parallel universes. She wanted to get Lincoln and Broyles on this. She wanted to talk to someone who didn't think she was the smartest person in the room. It was frightening.

She tried two days to make the appointment to get those two together. She wondered if she should contact the other side's Broyles. People had wandered through the department briefly mentioning detente and working together. She was so far from the perfect person for that. But she knew Broyles would have a theory and helpful thoughts.

Her head hurt. She did nothing but go out and shoot every shapeshifter they could find.

!

He thought.

He thought, baby, how is the baby?

Henry, he thought. That was the baby. He deserved to live.

He woke up. He woke up.

The third time he woke up, he struggled to move. A white man leaned over him and said, "You're in the hospital. You're breathing on your own. You have a few IVs, but mostly you can't move yet because you've been out of it for three weeks."

He breathed. He said, "Okay." His throat hurt.

The man said, "What's your name?"

"Peter," he said. "I don't remember the rest." The baby, he thought. "Henry, the baby."

"Your son," the man said. "Look, all the database and show me lookups are over run or broken down so we can't identify you, but we were able to determine that that is definitely your baby. And now we have a name for both of you. Peter and Henry."

"Henry is okay?"

"He's great, better than you by a longshot. They've been taking great care of him down in the nursery. I'll have him brought up in an hour or two when you've got your limbs operating."

While Peter tried to sit up and flex his fingers, his presumed doctor explained what had happened to him. Apparently, as was pretty common up here near Reiden Lake, Peter had "fallen afoul" of a quantum event. It had spat him out right on the edge of the amber around the lake, all Peter's hair and clothes burned right off.

"It'll grow back, right?" Peter couldn't remember what his face looked like, but he was not looking forward to being bald. He hadn't been bald. It would grow back, presumably he wasn't too hirsute.

"Your hair is already growing back. Everywhere. Some faster than others. You look weird, but you have eyelashes and eyebrows and the start of a manly beard," the doctor said.

The doctor also explained that Peter had been severely dehydrated and another medical term Peter recognized and knew but couldn't define. He wouldn't be back at full strength for another two weeks, probably. There had been issues with metabolism and kidney function. Missing amino acids.

"By then I'll remember again," Peter said.

"Probably not," the doctor said. "Usually, nothing comes back."

"But, I know what you mean by a quantum event. There are parallel universes, this one vibrates at one frequency and the other at a different one, they pass through each other with no one noticing if things don't get put wrong," Peter said.

"You know more than I do," the doctor said, smiling. "That's the way it works, we get these cases all the time. The event wipes your personal memories, leaves your knowledge. If it weren't for all the chaos in New York, we could tell you just who you are and send you on your way home. But we gotta wait."

Then another doctor came in and she had Henry. Peter held him carefully, but he knew, it was important. Henry mattered.

The other doctor smiled and said, "I bet you don't remember a bit of your parenting classes."

"Probably," Peter said. He smiled. "I'm ready for my refresher. Just don't make me give him back."

"Then we'll start with the importance of contact with your baby. Who we date at 6 weeks old and healthy."

"Henry," Peter said, holding him tighter.

Henry gurgled and Peter felt happy. It felt unfamiliar but he liked it. He supposed unfamiliarity was going to be the hallmark of the rest of his life.

Henry needed constant care, some of which Peter simply wasn't capable of but the nurses and doctors from the pediatric wing set up Peter's room for Henry. Peter would wake up and someone else would be changing the boy's diaper and seeing Peter awake, hand him Henry.

He babbled at the baby. He told him about things he remembered about quantum mechanics and how you might repair a tear between universes. No one listened to him besides Henry.

!

Liv went over to Lincoln's place after work. She let herself in with her key and he was sitting on the couch, just in his underwear. She said,"What are we doing here?"

"I don't know, Liv, you stopped returning my calls." Lincoln looked dispirited. He was always so optimistic, it made her mad. "Remember, not when I'm like this?"

"The one call you made the day after the Bridge," Liv said. "You wanted me for years and now it just takes one time I turn you down and nothing."

Lincoln looked at her. "No," he said. "It's not like that. It's, haven't you seen the news? They keep running all these special reports about how to deal with the not end of the world. Fine, I'm discombobulated. I bet you are, too."

She sat down on the edge of the couch. "I'm definitely not discombobulated. I'm confused and frustrated." She paused. "I probably can't have kids."

Lincoln's face was compassionate but still confused. He said, "Rachel had VPE, right? So you probably have it as well."

"Maybe you want kids," she said.

Lincoln shrugged. "I never thought about it, truthfully. It always seemed like a horrible, stupid idea. I bet all those people who had kids are laughing at us now."

Liv said, "Yeah, they're probably unbearably smug."

Lincoln smiled at her. He was clearly exhausted. He said, "Liv, I don't know if I want kids either. You know what's funny? I used to think I would be with you forever because I knew when forever was coming. I don't know what we do now."

"I was worried you were gonna propose," Liv said, smiling herself. "I envisioned some ugly ring, some family heirloom. Do you see the ring Charlie proposed with?"

"My mother is getting married," Lincoln said. "She'll probably invite you."

"Unless we've broken up or something," Liv said. She reached out to touch his knee. "I don't want to break up."

"Me neither," Lincoln said. "You're pretty good in bed. I just want us to adjust. Figure out what happens now, no assumptions."

"Me, too," she said. "Even though you're only average in bed."

He pulled her onto his lap. He surged forward, kissing her and pulling her shirt off. He was still kissing her when he got her bra off. She stood up to take her pants off, but her beat her to that. Then he said, "You had to wear these damn boots. I could have you naked in a minute if it weren't for these things."

"I wore them just to piss you off," she said, laughing.

She was naked and she pulled off his underwear before getting back on his lap. He held her waist tight and twisted her onto her back, him on top. Then he was fingering her, slowly, with his mouth all over her breasts. His teeth grazed her nipple and she bucked up, pushing herself onto his stupid two fingers. "I'd prefer to get really fucked," she said, trying to sound like it was more casual than her sudden need to have him inside her, filling her.

"That's the plan," Lincoln said. "I just want some begging first. You hurt my feelings with that average in bed remark."

He made her take it back, teasing her to the sharp edge of orgasm, and she did beg. It was pathetic. He flipped her so she was laying on her stomach and then he was inside her with one stroke. She came from just that. She came again from his sensuous rhythm. It felt like slow dancing but slow dancing and rolling your hips was all metaphor and imitation of the real thing which was Lincoln fucking her until she came again.

They were sprawled on his bed, about as far as they could move from the couch. "I'm going to insult you all the time now," Liv said.

"So you have no plans to change," Lincoln said.

She shifted closer to him, smelled him, that smell that was only him and sex. She said, "I can change. I still love you, you know."

"I love you, too," he said, kissing her cheek.

!

Peter realized that they knew who he was when the Fringe agent came in, looking at him bewildered and sitting on the other bed in Peter's room where Henry usually was. Peter was recovered enough to take care of Henry all the time now, so the boy slept in Peter's bed. He knew who Fringe agents were, which was supposed to be normal for his condition.

"I'm Charlie Francis," the agent said. "I'm from Fringe division."

"You know who I am, awesome," Peter said, smiling. "This hospital is not my idea of forever accommodations."

"I watched you die, there was dust where you poofed up," Charlie said with a hand gesture like something exploding out. Charlie looked like he had been sad Peter had poofed up. Peter like that, better than people who wanted him dead.

"Probably all my clothes and hair. It's growing back, for sure," Peter said, quickly. "I'm getting used to seeing myself in the mirror. I know I look a little weird, but I trimmed my beard this morning. My feeling is that I should let my hair on my head grow out so it's longer than the beard. Apparently, no one likes a neckbeard."

"You're alive," Francis said.

"Isn't that good news?" Peter frowned. He assumed people would want to see him again. If not him, Henry at least.

"And you have a baby," Francis said, slowly.

"I didn't have a baby before?"

"No," Francis said. "Not with your girlfriend, or the woman, uh, you were with before that," Charlie said.

"But he's mine," Peter said. "I'm 100% his biological father."

"I saw the test," Francis said. "You remember things, too. Do you remember anything about me?"

Peter looked at the man. He said, "I think I like you. You remind me of someone I like."

"That's weird," Francis said. "I read over the reports, you're not reacting like most victims of these quantum events. There are people who live up here who lost their memories 13 years ago and still don't remember anything. They don't have feelings for their spouses or even their kids."

"But they're still able to form new memories, they remember the last 13 years and they still have whatever skills and knowledge they had before," Peter said. "But I'm guessing my experience of a quantum event wasn't really anything like theirs."

"Yeah," Francis said. "It's a long story. I'm going to let someone else deal with all of that. I have a lot of people to tell that you're alive."

So Peter waited. He put all his parenting class lessons to use keeping Henry warm and loved. "You matter," he said, over and over again. Wherever Henry came from, he was Peter's and he loved him.

He had a lot of feelings, somewhere under the lost memories. He had nightmares with faceless bodies of curling colors grabbing at Henry.

Agent Francis came back and said they were taking Peter home. It was a long drive and at one point he heard Francis speak to a woman he called Liv. Peter felt anger like a burn in the back in his head at just her name. After the call was over, Peter said, "I think I hate that Liv person, I'm sorry to say."

Agent Francis said, "You're not supposed to remember that."

"I did hate her, huh? Was it justified or did I used to be a terrible misogynist?"

"I think," Francis said. "I think for you it was justified. She's a good person, though."

When they arrived at Liberty Island, Peter kept Henry close. He had a baby bag courtesy of the hospital, and a stroller slash car seat. Peter had insisted on a baby carrier so Henry was always next to him. In a room dominated by a large machine, Francis said, "I'm handing you off to your people, okay?"

Peter looked at the machine, drawn to it. Henry made a noise and Peter turned away.

Peter shook his hand. "It was nice meeting you."

Francis shook his head and left.

Peter saw his people in the room. He loved all of them, two of them a lot. The old man practically crushed him and Henry in a hug. The man smelt like sugar and something chemical. He said, "Peter, Peter, my son."

The blonde woman was crying and Peter felt it was incongruous, wrong. She must be very upset. He reached out and touched her cheek. "I remember you, too," he said.

"Good," she said. "That's good."

!

Peter looked off. It was the hair, Olivia thought at first. Everything was growing back and she'd never seen Peter with hair so short. He stood differently. He should be shaving more often. He would have been shaving more often, before. She should tell him that. He seemed to like the beard, though. Maybe this was Peter now. Why would he be so different because he remembered nothing and had a mystery baby. She laughed at herself and felt like she was curling up in the sun.

It wasn't the hair. Peter without memory was lighter. He wasn't carefree, but he was unburdened.

When the other Broyles had brought them over and broken the news Peter was alive, she had felt happy. Full of dread and happy. Nervous and happy. Walter had cried. Astrid had clapped. Olivia hadn't said anything. She had so much dread.

Here was Peter, actually Peter, was in their apartment and he was weird and unburdened and had a baby.

The baby mystified her. If she had thought about it, she would have assumed Peter would be a doting father. He was so attached to this baby. This out of nowhere baby.

She watched Peter poke around the apartment. "Did you babyproof the apartment?"

"Asher did," Olivia said. "You met him, he's Lincoln boyfriend."

"Lincoln wears glasses, Asher is Filipino," Peter said, like he was memorizing it. "Lincoln is cute."

"You certainly thought so," Olivia said.

"Am I bisexual or just -"

"You were. You had boyfriends, at least one. I don't know how this works now," Olivia said.

"You mean my mental state and sexual orientation, or our relationship?" He sat down next to her on the couch.

She tried to smile. "Both, I guess." She tried to just be happy that Peter was alive.

"I don't want to impose on you," Peter said. "It seems cruel to make you be my teacher or guide. Or ask you how I used to be. I know Henry is a surprise to everyone."

"It's okay," Olivia said. "Your room is in there if you're tired. You might want to rest, Walter is intent on putting you in the tank tomorrow."

"Aquarium or military vehicle?"

"Like an aquarium," Olivia said. "It's a sensory deprivation tank. He's very worried about Henry."

"I'm not giving him up," Peter said, suddenly firm. He stood up and said, "Okay, that's my room. But it was our room, right?"

"Yes," Olivia said.

Peter smiled easily. He kept doing that. "Did you want to talk more about us? You just took me in and you don't have to. You still don't have to."

"You were actually paying the rent," Olivia said.

"I'm unemployed now," Peter said. "Not much of a consultant."

"Technically not, you're Walter's legal guardian." Olivia said.

"He was in a mental institution," Peter said, nodding. "But I was dead for a month, didn't anyone deal with that?"

"We didn't," Olivia said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter said. He reached out with his free arm and brushed her shoulder. It hurt her. Peter said, "I can't know how hard it was for you."

"We didn't declare you dead, I didn't even tell my sister you were gone. My sister and her daughter really love you," Olivia said. "Anyway, the plan was to make me Walter's guardian."

"I'm sure you would've been good for him. Was I?"

"Yes," Olivia said. "You lived with him for years and it wasn't until recently you moved out. You made sure you were close to him."

"I had a psychotic break, that's sounds weird," Peter said.

"You were under a lot of stress," Olivia said. "Your trust had been violated again, and worse, someone who pretended to be in love with you and having sex with you. I don't know why it had happened earlier, frankly. You were kidnapped as a child, you were -"

"I know," Peter said, gently. "I got the briefing. You don't have to defend me to me. But I guess I'm not your me."

"It's fine," Olivia said. "Aren't you remembering things?"

"Not much so far," Peter said. He was looking down at Henry. "So is this okay?"

"Of course," Olivia said. "I don't expect anything from you."

"Thank you," Peter said.

Olivia tossed and turned until midnight. Then she went into Peter's room. He was asleep, one arm out to touch Henry in the co-sleeper bed attached to the bed. He opened his eyes and said, "Do you want to sleep here? I don't mind."

"I miss you," she said, disgusted by the catch in her voice.

He smiled at her again. He was being kind to her. She got in the bed on what had been her side. She rested her head on his chest and his arm came around her. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the smell of him. Peter, she thought.

In the morning, he was kind enough not to mention she'd cried all over him. He'd rubbed her back once or twice and she cried more. She couldn't keep doing that.

She helped him get Henry fed and changed Henry's diaper. Something about his little flailing feet reminded her of Ella.

They got to the lab and Peter allowed Walter to fawn over him. Walter patted Henry's head softly. "We are going to figure out where you came from, and then we will teach you to call me Grandpa."

She helped get the electrodes on Peter. She said, "Do you remember doing this?"

"I did this for you," he said, lying. He was still a good liar, but it was Peter. She always knew. He was being kind to her, again.

When Walter put the thing in the back of his neck, Peter said, "Ow fuck." He leaned into Olivia and said, "I remember you in black underwear and bra."

"That's extraordinary," Walter said. "Extraordinary."

They put Peter in the tank.

!

He saw infinity. He remembered himself seeing infinity.

Infinite universes unfolded and weaved together and crumbled in his eyes. Peter was back there in the machine, remembering desperately clinging to what he and Walter had theorized to fix everything. He saw the changes and destruction. Waves of time alteration swept around him, eddied at his feet that he pushed back.

He saw Lincoln Lee, close, not his Lincoln Lee, someone else, another Peter. Another Peter had done something and the baby in Lee's arm was about to disappear. In a fraction of a second, Peter could see what the other Peter was doing, his ignorance of the baby in Lee's arms. Like a wave spreading out, cresting and drowning people, spitting them out on the other side as someone else.

Henry mattered. Peter had done everything he could here, he had fractions of seconds. He reached for Henry, he jumped and burned but the baby was wrapped in his arms and safe. Henry mattered if no one cared. Peter cared.

Peter was throwing up on the lab floor, Olivia's arms tight around him Henry wailing for him. Peter looked up and passed out.

He woke up in a back room while Walter talked him through what he had seen. Peter roused himself to argue worst case scenarios. Walter said, "No, no, you're wrong, you know you're wrong. You've done no damage. You've hurt no one. No one will know. There is no lasting injury in the continuum we can find. I think he can be my grandson."

"And my son," Peter said. He watched the sparkles in the room and tried to regain his equilibrium. "I'm just like you," Peter said.

"No, you saved the baby and didn't hurt anything. No one mourns him or misses him. Which is a tragedy because he is one of the most adorable babies I've seen in a long time."

"Who is not available for experimentation," Peter said. "Tests, sure, very few of them. But otherwise, no experiments. Not even carrots over broccoli, am I clear?"

"Peter," Walter said, tearing up and hugging him. "You remember me."

"I've heard a lot of stories," Peter said. "I don't remember more."

"But you will," Walter said. "Those studies they told you about in that hospital on the other side, they had no bearing on what happened to you."

"I want Henry," Peter said.

Olivia drove him back to the apartment. He was still loopy from the drugs but he explained it. "I stole Henry, sort of. From another timeline, just as he was about to be erased. So I get to keep him because there's no one to give him back to."

"He's yours, though. In another timeline, you had a baby."

"In another timeline, another Peter got the Olivia from the other side pregnant. Someone accelerated her pregnancy. He never knew she was pregnant. I can imagine that's painful information for you," Peter said. He licked his lips.

"That's condescending," Olivia said.

"I didn't mean it to be," Peter said. "Weren't you upset I slept with her?"

"No, not really," Olivia said. "I hate her. I hate what was done to you."

Peter looked at her, watching her hair shimmer and glow. "I didn't think of it from that perspective when I was given my _this is your life Peter_ briefing."

"You really didn't agree with it before you forgot it," Olivia said. She was trying not to smile, Peter could tell. "People act like I should view it as infidelity or some failing on your part. But I got over that."

"Well, I was pretty ripe for that sort of thing like you said last night. No wonder I had a psychotic break," Peter said.

"It's weird that you're so cavalier to all of this," Olivia said. She looked pained now.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I want you to be happy. I don't remember why, but I know it like I know I love Henry and seem to be pretty attracted to Lincoln and you, but you more."

"You're telling your nominal girlfriend that?"

"Is my nominal girlfriend surprised?" He reached over and touched her hair. "You're pretty."

"You're still high," Olivia said. She smiled this time.

!

Lincoln was overjoyed to come into the work. He smiled at Astrid and waited patiently for her to respond in her own way.

Then he sat down next to Charlie and Liv. "Stop smiling," Charlie said. "You look like you're on drugs."

"Satisfaction in my work is the only drug I need."

"You said that about my cunt, too," Liv said, quietly.

Charlie said, "You did not need to tell me that."

"Fine, two drugs. Two drugs are all I need. Come on, Charlie, tell us about Bug Lady and her beautiful cunt," Lincoln said. "Or let's tackle a case. Give us a case, Liv."

"I've got one for you," she said. She described the ten shapeshifters they'd encountered in the past 6 weeks. Lincoln already knew about the program, more than Liv, so the two of them had to walk Charlie through it.

Charlie said, "So someone is bringing these guys over from the other side, or they're using the ones we have here?"

"I didn't even think of that," Liv said. "I missed you guys."

"I know where they're built," Lincoln said.

"We just have to figure out where they're coming from, how they're getting here and why someone is doing this," Charlie said. "Easy."

"Now that we're back together," Liv said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I don't even like you guys."

"You realize we're going to be stuck together for much longer than any of us thought," Charlie said. "I'm trying to cope with facing so much time with you two and your drugs, I might need a transfer."

"No," Liv said, frowning. She hit his shoulder and he winced. "Look, Charlie, if you want, I'll dump Lincoln."

"Or I'll dump Liv, whichever of us you want," Lincoln said.

"Or we all know I was joking," Charlie said. "The quickness with which you two are willing to dump each other for little old me is a little worrisome."

"We should probably work," Liv said.

"If you insist," Lincoln said. "What if we invite Bug Lady for foursome? She had great hair. Does she still have great hair?"

!

Peter sat with the other Lincoln in a room in the machine building. They had started calling it the Bridge, which Peter liked, as names for multi-universe healing machines went. Peter said, "I guess you're wondering why I called you here."

Lincoln crossed his arms and didn't even smile at the allusion.

"I didn't want to talk to your girlfriend, so I'm putting that on you," Peter said.

"What is this? Do you want her to apologize? Are you apologizing?"

"I don't remember what happened, my apology would be pretty hollow. I'm not here for that. We discovered where Henry came from. The baby I had with me," Peter said. He thought about Henry in his pink onesies that Astrid and his Lincoln insisted on buying him. He'd been hearing a lot about gender norms.

"Your child," Lincoln said.

"From an alternate timeline. When I was in the machine, I saw the timeline being erased, I saw Henry was about to disappear. So I took him right before he was swept into nothing. The mother in that timeline was your Olivia." Peter couldn't help how his mouth twisted saying her name.

"Couldn't be," Lincoln said.

"Her pregnancy was accelerated, that's why the timeline works. So it was," Peter said. "Henry is her son, technically. Like he's mine, technically. It's up to her." Peter clenched his hands under the table and then released them. "If she wants to see him. Our Lincoln would facilitate."

"What if she wants to see him more? Be part of raising of him?"

Peter said, "That's another discussion. I don't like the idea. But if she wants to, we can see about finding a way."

Peter watched the other Lincoln process. He was different from the Lincoln Peter knew, the tiny shifts in his face much harder to read. Reading micro expressions was something Peter had been able to do and could still do. Lincoln stood up. "I'll tell my girlfriend for you."

Lincoln stopped at the door. He said, "You didn't have to tell us, thank you for that."

"My fathers have set a very low bar but I try to be a better man," Peter said.

When Lincoln was gone, Peter slouched back in his chair. He had no idea what he would do if she did want to be part of Henry's life. He was against it on some principle he couldn't articulate. His Olivia thought his alternate was very nearly a rapist. Peter remembered absolutely nothing of her. That seemed telling.

All of his memories that came back in bursts and slow drifts were happy ones. They made him smile. He remembered his boyfriend, but he didn't remember why they broke up. Then Olivia told him. He'd said, "I don't want to know anymore."

He couldn't realistically live that way. He'd had 33 years of a life, he couldn't just have the happy ones.

He left the Bridge room and went to the Thompson LES where Olivia was. She was laying on the bed with Henry, holding his chubby hand. He walked in could see Olivia naked in his mind, his gaze on her spread legs. "I remember this hotel," he said. "Just now, I remembered. We had sex here." He had loved her so much. He felt it every time he looked at her. He didn't want to not love her. He wanted to get her forever in his life.

"We did," Olivia said. She smiled at him tentatively.

"But we shouldn't have sex now," he said. He had to be a good person.

"Of course," she said, turning back to Henry.

"Just," Peter said. "We used to have a relationship and we built that over years. I'm not that guy, anymore."

"You will never be that guy," Olivia said. "I know." She sounded sad underneath her casual tone.

"I'm sort of like him, though, I don't want you to be sad," Peter said.

"You say that all the time," Olivia said. "It doesn't help."

He laid down next to her and took Henry's other hand. "I love this little guy."

"Part of me really likes him," Olivia said. "I hate that."

"Because of his mother?"

"No," Olivia said. She frowned. "Not really. I'm probably not cut out to be a mother or a stepmother."

"I'm not judging," Peter said. "I know how upside down everything is to you. You could talk to Dr. Felton."

"You hated her," Olivia said, no longer frowning.

"But she helped me, right? And you?"

"Sure," she said.

"It can't hurt to talk to someone who's neutral and doesn't judge," Peter said. He rolled on his back and put Henry on his stomach. Olivia didn't let go of Henry's hand.

Peter said, "Am I irritating you?"

"No," Olivia said. "I'm adjusting. You're alive, there's this boy, it's good."

"Did you invite your sister and her daughter?"

"Ella," Olivia said. She looked a little down again. Peter should have remembered that name. "You know Ella's too old to play with Henry."

"Henry's not ready for hanging out with anyone, he's pretty much just a eat sleep poop machine," Peter said. "I don't know why we put up with him."

"You love him," Olivia said.

"You like him," Peter said. He shifted and kissed her cheek.

She blushed. "We should probably talk about that kind of thing."

"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I have all the feelings and tiny bits of our history."

"But I have everything, right?" Olivia looked blank.

"Wait, what goes wrong if we make out?"

"I'm trying to think," Olivia said, nearly smiling. She went blank again. "You don't really know who you are now, maybe you'll regret it. You're a different person minus the baggage. You could want to do better. Find a better stepmother."

"I am pretty sure I won't," Peter said. He put Henry in the bassinet next to the bed. "But we can wait."

Except he woke up tangled up with her. She fit right in his arms and he wanted to touch her. She turned and smiled at him. She said, "We're not doing anything?"

He kissed her. She was pulling at his undershirt, bringing him closer. He had another burst of memory. He said, "We had a lot of sex here."

She laughed. He pushed up her tank top and sucked and teased her nipple, his hand on the other one. She pressed her hips against him. He could taste her sweat and remembered it. He pulled down her underwear and put his hand between her legs. "I'm just going to, I'm -"

Olivia said, "That's a good idea." She shoved his head down and spread her legs.

When she came, she was loud enough to wake Henry. "Sorry, sorry," she said.

Peter said, "I guess this is parenting." He used the baby wipes to clean his hands and then rocked Henry back to sleep.

!

Liv slammed things in the kitchen. "I don't want to see that damn baby," she muttered.

Lincoln said, "You don't have to."

"You don't think I should," Liv said.

"I don't think you should see the kid or I don't think you should not see the kid?"

"Which is it?"

Lincoln said, "I've thought about it, and you know, you're not this child's mother. That was some other Olivia."

"But she's me, right? Six months ago, before the timelines broke off, she was me. I was her," Liv said.

"Was she?" Lincoln asked. "She was as much as you as the Olivia on the other side, is she you? It's not your kid."

Liv stared at the counter like it could explain something. She said, "I don't want to see the kid."

"That's fine," Lincoln said. "Now come over here and relax."

"Yeah, that simple," Liv said, coming over to him anyway. She said, "Do you think that other Liv was happy being a mom?"

"Who know? Probably," Lincoln said. "It had to be weird. Now she doesn't even remember so none of it matters."

"I don't feel any connection," Liv said. "Maybe I want kids, I don't even know. But I don't want this one."

Lincoln said, "Works for me." They sat in silence.

Liv said, "You know he's adorable."

Lincoln nudged her. "You're so vain. Plus, Peter didn't give us a picture. If you really wanted to hurt him, you could ask for one."

"I don't really want to hurt him," Liv said. "I just want him over there, and I want the past sewn up and done."

"Just like that," Lincoln said. "You dream small."

!

Peter's mother came over the Bridge with Henry's formula. Peter waved from the parking lot and she came over. He got out of the car and got Henry out of his car seat. "This is your grandmother," Peter said.

She took Henry and squeezed him. "He's adorable."

"Hi," he said. "This is like most of my interactions: weird. I don't remember you very well, but I know I love you."

"That's very nice to know," she said.

She sat in the back with Henry and his carseat, holding the baby's hand.

"You should know, there's continued improvement in everything on our side."

"So I don't have to feel guilty about smuggling over superior medical formula for my kid?"

His mother smiled at him. "I think you've earned it."

When they got to Boston, there was dinner and bedtime. She said, "I'm sorry you have to do that same drive back in the morning, they don't want me to stay too long. Disruptive, apparently."

"I'm sure Henry will make it seem longer," Peter said. "He was pretty good about sleeping through the night and then he wasn't."

"Olivia isn't here?"

"Business in Kansas," Peter said. "They're tracking this Russian fellow, or possibly person."

"Oh," his mother said. "How are you adjusting to all of this?"

"Parenthood? My lack of memories?" Peter smiled. "I like being a parent. I think I'm doing okay with my stolen kid. My memories are … weird. It's weird that all I get back are happy ones. I'm waiting for more to come and have them all be horrible."

"It sounds frightening to me," she said.

"It's not," Peter said. "I still have the emotions. I trust people or I don't. Some part of me recognizes them even if I don't know all the details."

"I could be horrible, you haven't known me very long," she said.

"You're not," Peter said. He hugged her and went to bed.

He drove her home in the morning and spent the afternoon being exhausted by Henry. He nearly slept through his alarm to pick up Olivia at the airport. "This brat only calmed down when we walked in here," Peter said. He noticed two women glaring at him. He rolled his eyes at them.

Olivia took Henry and rubbed his head. "Hey, kiddo." She kissed his nearly bald head.

"How was your trip?"

"We found signs that he was there, he was passing through. Two CIA agents followed us the whole time. I think they've given up on finding the mysterious Russian and are just letting us do it. Then they'll swoop in and arrest him," Olivia said. She sighed. "I missed Henry."

"He missed you, too. I missed you, too," he said.

"One time I came home from one of these trips and we were having sex as soon as we got in the door. You told me to wear more skirts and I told you you should," Olivia said, with a small smile. "Tonight I think it will be putting Henry to sleep and pulling the covers over all three of us."

"What if I wear a skirt?" He would dearly love to have sex with Olivia. It was something they did rarely, tentatively, once a week. He always waited for her to initiate it. He was the half-wit following her like the CIA, lusting for something Olivia had had with a complete man.

!

Olivia usually let Astrid and Lincoln handle the liaison duties to the other side. She hated Liv, and found time spent with Lincoln and Charlie deeply uncomfortable. So they had sent the other Broyles with a newer Fringe agent, a man named Robert Danzig.

What they wanted her to look at was above Danzig's clearance, so the man held back. Broyles said, "Thank you for coming over."

"It's nice to work with you again," Olivia said.

"I think you might mean that," Broyles said.

"You think I can detect something, with my cortexiphan abilities," Olivia said. "I still don't have great control of them."

"We're desperate," Broyles said. "These shapeshifters keep coming over and we can't figure out how."

"I can't see tears," Olivia said.

"Are you sure?"

Olivia sighed. She had tried, in preparation for this trip, to work with Walter and figure out ways to do this. All she had was Walter repeating "your perception shapes what you see." She'd tried relaxants, she hadn't tried LSD despite Walter's entreaties. She tried too hard, Walter said. Olivia had bitten back that telling her that was the least effective thing to say in the whole world.

Now this Broyles walked her around a particular section of Staten Island that seemed to be the originating point for the shapeshifters still coming over. They walked up and down the streets. Olivia tried to blur her vision, see the glimmer everywhere. There were gaps. She went to one, in an alley between buildings. Olivia concentrated this time and tried to see what was on her side. She saw a boarded up building, inside was indistinct, but she knew she saw mercury on the ground. "Here," she said to Broyles. "Let's get down the latitude and longitude. But I think right here is a portal. If you guard here, you might catch them as they come up."

Danzig handed her one of the advanced tablets with the requested coordinates. She looked at the scans on the bottom part of the display. "This is almost a tear."

"Not enough we'd ever notice and have to amber," Danzig said. "It's healing itself already. It's minute, but the readings are trending down in the time we've been here."

"But we've traced at least 20 shapeshifters to Staten Island. Whoever this is, they're using a technique that doesn't hurt the space between worlds as much as other methods," Broyles said.

They went up and down Staten Island and then to the Bronx, but the alley was the only place Olivia could find. "Maybe I'm just tired out," she said. "I might have missed something."

"You helped us immensely," Broyles said.

"Sir," she said. "How is your son? Is he getting better?"

"Yes," Broyles said, smiling. "He is. We've been able to use the technology to help all of the victims. You were an excellent agent."

"That's good news," she said. "I'm glad for Christopher."

!

Astrid came over while Henry was napping with files. She said, "Did I time it right?"

"You did, he's asleep for now," Peter said. "This feels nice. We used to hang out as friends, right? I think I remember that."

"We did," Astrid said, looking down at her files and the tablets she had from the other side.

"So before work, how are you? You have a girlfriend, right?"

"I do," Astrid said, smiling. "She's very confused about you, because I was pretty sad when you died. And now you're not."

"Just brain-damaged," Peter said.

"That's what I told her," Astrid said. "Amnesia from weaving universes together is a bit more than I want her to know."

"You prefer not talking shop at all," Peter said. He remembered. "Did you tell her about Henry?"

"Yes," Astrid said. "I said the FBI faked your death and you were in treatment for your brain damage and then, uh, at the same time, it turned out a baby left at a fire station was yours."

"His mom wouldn't have done that," Peter said. "I hate her, but she wouldn't have done that."

"No, I know, but stolen from a timeline that was about to erase him is way too too much shop. What are you telling Rachel when they come?"

Peter said, "Olivia never told them I was dead. So, basically, it's going to be some ex-girlfriend. Luckily, they don't know about the accelerated pregnancy so the timing sort of works as right before Olivia and I got together. I was willing to take the hit as a cheater, but Olivia said no." Peter tapped the files. "But we're talking about me, not you."

"My girlfriend and I moved in together. I thought maybe she wouldn't like my music but she's surprisingly tolerant. She has a cat."

"So you have a cat," Peter said. "Good cat, bad cat?"

"Fat cat, black cat," Astrid said, smiling. "He's pretty friendly. She named him Picard."

"Star Trek nerd," Peter said.

"I know," Astrid said. "I brought her over once when I was taking care of Walter while you were dead and they bonded. It was a turn-off, I have to be honest."

Peter laughed. "Okay, work."

Astrid put her hand on his forearm. "You used to talk to me all the time about your past, I mean, if you have questions Olivia can't answer."

"We'd have dedicated discussions about my past? God, I sound like a self-centered asshole," Peter said.

"Possibly," Astrid said. "But it was our little friend code. I'd name an age and we'd both tell stories about something that happened to us at that age."

"If it comes up," Peter said. "Sometimes I feel pretty good with just happy memories."

"I would, too," Astrid said. "Okay," she said, handing over a tablet. "Here's what we got on the shapeshifters. It looked like 20-30 of them came over through the Staten Island alley. We've searched the storefront, it's abandoned. It was before Olivia found it. The other 50 seem to have come from outside New York City and then they come in on the train and we don't have a good bead on which part of New York."

"Why is this person doing this?"

Astrid looked through her file. "Walter had two theories. He thinks it's either to destabilize the government by bringing out all the underhanded stuff they did, or it's a distraction to the Fringe division while something else happens."

"Because most of these guys, they shift forms two or three times and then try to kill everyone they meet," Peter said. "At least the ones we notice. There could be a whole another group that's stayed here and just settled into a nice living situation. Or goes there and does the same thing. What do you think the motive is?"

"I have no idea," Astrid said. "We think they're getting across -"

Peter waved his hand. "I know Olivia and Walter and Lincoln and everyone on the other side is focused on how, I want to use my non-stay-at-home-Dad time to attack another issue. Why do you think it's happening?"

Astrid tilted her head to one side. "It's not to destabilize the Bridge because it doesn't do that. I don't think it's attacking the government on the other side, the ex-Secretary took care of that. Maybe the person didn't know that?"

"They can get over and back, they can read the paper on the other side," Peter said. "Or tablet." Peter flipped through the tablet. "It's like clean up. Did you see this note from the other Lincoln that the other side sent over close to 150 shapeshifters? Accounting for the ones who want to stay and the ones who died on this side, what if the motive is send back the garbage? You sent this, now take it back."

"You see anger there," Astrid said. "At the other side?"

"Lots of people have a right to it," Peter said. "Or general anger at the world, there's a lot of that Some kind of anarchic fuck the world."

"You think anger," Astrid said.

"What do they do when they get here? They kill. That's their mission, kill. Whomever is doing this, it's like flinging poo. I don't see a sophisticated pattern here. Just send 'em over to kill," Peter said.

Astrid nodded. "So there's the mind control, our Russian fellow who actually does something similar."

Peter looked over at what she had in her hands. "Anger. More anger. And someone who has some connection from one side to the other. I bet these are related."

"That's a new thing to explore," Astrid said. "Thank you, stay at home Dad."

"You know part of those Russian experiments produced one or two children who could use sound to get to the other side. If this guy's been experimented on for as long as he can remember and then abandoned as soon as the Soviets went out of business, he'd have a lot of anger. Maybe," Peter said. "Or he could working some other scheme."

"Someone who uses mind control only to kill and doesn't try to refine it so it doesn't kill the victims, I think we're back at anger," Astrid said. "Except there were no shapeshifters coming over from Kansas."

"We don't know where they were assigned, though I bet the other side could find out. Does it help or hinder our investigation to treat the crimes as linked?"

"We can't answer that yet," Astrid said.

Henry stirred. Astrid said, "I should head out."

"He's not that scary," Peter said. "When he wakes up I change him, feed him and read a book to him, he's generally pretty easy going."

"Do you like being home like this?"

"Yup," Peter said. "I don't want to do anything else. Dorky, right?"

"No, it's sweet," Astrid said. "How is Olivia adjusting?"

"Am I allowed to answer that? I can't remember if you're better friends with me or her," Peter said.

"I am equally good friends with both of you, so there," Astrid said.

"Olivia likes me, she likes Henry, I think she's pretty unsure about both of us being in her life permanently. I'm weird and different and possibly not as good in bed, and she's not sure she wants to be a stepmother," Peter said, nearly frowning. "I don't know what to do except keep trying to talk to her about it or ignore the whole issue and you'd be amazed, but sometimes I do both."

"It's not the least bit amazing," Astrid said. "I know both of you."

"I'm being selfish," Peter said. "As long as she stays, I have her and Henry. But it's seems like a really bad idea to just hope everything stays at an acceptable level of awkward for the next 18 or so years."

"You'll work things out when Henry goes to college," Astrid said.

"He's probably a genius, so we might have to wait 14 years," Peter said.

"You have a good plan there," Astrid said, getting up. She waved as she left just as Henry woke up whimpering and about to cry.

!

Liv and Lincoln watched Astrid playing with the few photos they had of the mysterious Russian from the other side.

"Do we have his name? Maybe we can get better pictures from his alternate on this side," Liv said. "If he has one."

"No name," Lincoln said. "But we can send a suggestion to the other side to look deeper into the records they have."

Astrid said, "There is at least 10% chance that this man came over to this side before even his interaction with Dr. Tuckerson."

"If we know where," Charlie said.

"Did he come over to where Dr. Tuckerson's office was? Do we have old surveillance from before that?" Lincoln leaned closer and Astrid tensed slightly. Lincoln stepped back so she was comfortable again.

Astrid said, "I will check now. It will take a number of minutes, at least 200, so you should move on to other tasks."

Lincoln and Liv sat down next to Charlie. "We do have other cases," Charlie said. He held up his tablet. "People trying to break apart amber in 15 locations. Anti-amber activists who are posting hit lists of Fringe agents and their pictures. Including all three of us."

"You're kidding," Lincoln said, grabbing the tablet from him. "We don't need the amber again, we're probably 2-3 years away from being able to clear some of the smaller sites. But we're still bad guys on a hit list?"

Charlie said, "Everything's getting better so why not just undo everything? Why do you think I know?"

Lincoln sighed and said, "Let's hit the sites where they're chipping at the amber. Maybe we can do some education."

"Or make bigger fences," Liv said.

"Or better alarms," Charlie said.

One of the first places they went they found three activists. Lincoln talked one down, saying it would happen, but amber was only used on the worst of the tears and it would take years to heal. The other two activists tried to jump Liv who quickly dispatched both of them. "And you were where?" She was snarling at Charlie when he showed up.

"Over there, making sure we get alerts next time someone tries this," Charlie said. "What? You were fine. Are you upset you broke a sweat?"

"I am, actually," Liv said. "A girl likes to look her best."

The two knocked-out activists were sent straight to detention. Lincoln convinced the third to just walk away and tell others.

On the drive back they listened to the news. In months, the air quality was so good, only 1% of the city required oxygen supplements. In most cities, it was even better. Charlie said, "I feel a little bit responsible. I'm taking 1% credit. If we hadn't saved Peter Bishop, you know."

"Yeah, 1% isn't overstating it," Liv said. "Not at all."

"I tell Mona it's at least 2%," Charlie said.

"That's so you," Lincoln said. "Hey, Peter doesn't remember anything, he wouldn't contradict anything."

"Very good point," Charlie said. "Going up to 5% tonight."

!

Liv decided to walk part of the way to work. It was something about the air. As she passed a new store, a woman called to her from inside, "Hey pretty lady."

Liv turned and looked into the store just as the woman stepped up. The woman said, "I sell make up. Give me ten minutes, I'll convince you to get some."

"I already do a little," Liv said. "I'm a Fringe agent, I don't need much."

"Plus, you're just that pretty," the woman said, smiling. "I'm not talking about making people look twice, I'm talking about you feeling even more beautiful, expressing yourself."

Liv looked at her skeptically but she went inside. The woman walked her through the ritual of it all, the way it was like armor, like one possible way to say _you better notice me_. "One of many," the woman said. "I'm not selling you some bag of goods about looking younger or measuring up, you are you and you are perfect."

"New and innovative sales pitch," Liv said. It worked though, she walked out with a bag of make-up. She liked the whole idea. She liked taking five minutes for herself. She had all the time in the world, she thought. She wasn't her alternate, grimly facing each day, waiting for the next blow.

Lincoln watched her putting it on the next morning. He said, "You can use my eyeliner, you know."

"I want something less subtle," she said, smiling.

!

John Scott came back from Chicago to help them infiltrate the anti-amber activists that were posting the hit lists. He and Liv partnered up which Lincoln tried to be calm about. "Don't worry," Charlie said. "She probably won't leave you."

Lincoln followed her activities through her cuff and other cameras. She was thankfully just supposed to be John Scott's sister, so there was no undercover making out to watch.

After two weeks, they had enough to detain about 15 members of the group and get the hit list taken down. Scott sat with Lincoln in Broyles's office and said, "These are the same guys who tried to have you killed. But we haven't dismantled the organization at all. Just this one cell."

"This one violent cell," Lincoln said, remembering how Liv had fought with three of them when it came time for everyone to go to jail. "Do we at least know who their contact was in the department that helped them set that bomb? I didn't see it in your report."

Broyles said, "He's being dealt with. If we make it too public, we can't insert our operative and go after the larger group."

"They should just be patient," Lincoln said.

"They're definitely going to listen that message," Scott said, with a bark of laughter.

!

Olivia and Rachel left Ella with Peter and Henry back at the apartment. They were getting a very expensive dinner on Peter's dime. He was much looser with his Massive Dynamic money than he had been before. "He's still frugal with it, more than Walter would be if he knew," Olivia said. "This is just a drop in their money."

"Are you feeling guilty?" Rachel grinned.

"A little?" Olivia shrugged. "Everything's complicated."

"But you're still with him," Rachel said, watching her closely.

"He's still Peter. He's the Peter he was underneath everything," Olivia said.

"You liked some of the everything," Rachel said.

"I didn't like the part where he was miserable and moody," Olivia said. "Even if it seems strange coming home to a chipper Peter smiling at me all the time."

"You liked the misery a little," Rachel said. "Or you think you should be with someone miserable because you are."

"Am not," Olivia said.

"A little," Rachel said, laughing. "I think you're way more freaked out by the kid."

Olivia shrugged again. "I like Henry."

"When Ella was a baby you could not say enough how much you loved being an aunt. Not how you wanted to be a mom someday, but an aunt. Who can leave sometimes. Apparently just like Henry's mom," Rachel said with a hint of anger in her voice.

"It wasn't like that," Olivia said. She didn't know why she was defending that other Liv. "She wanted Henry to live and be safe, Peter was the best option."

"But you clearly hate her," Rachel said.

"Yeah," Olivia said. "A lot of this is classified, Rachel."

"You make it sound like some kind of Mata Hari spy thing," Rachel said.

"Sort of?" Olivia ate some of her expensive dinner. It was really good steak. "I definitely hate her for manipulating Peter. For a lot of things about her. I see her in Henry, you know?"

Rachel said, "Look, Henry's a baby. Right now, you might see me or Greg in Ella, but mostly she's Ella. She's her own person, separate from everything else. It'll be like that with Henry if you let it."

"Sometimes I just want Henry out of the house, so I can just have Peter. I'm awful, right?"

Rachel said, "I could have told you that. Look, you weren't expecting to be a stepmother. You certainly weren't expecting it to just be sprung on you with no preparation. And after Peter gets some brain injury. But you love him, right? Peter?"

"Yes," Olivia said. "I can't imagine myself with anyone else and I don't want to."

"Well, package deal," Rachel said, gesturing with her fork. "That's what they are. So find a way to get over it. Henry's a pretty damn cute baby. He makes me want more kids."

"You get that way over every baby we see," Olivia said.

"Henry in particular. He has something like Ella in him, I swear," Rachel said.

"So just like that, snap my fingers, get over it," Olivia said. "I love your advice."

"What else are you going to do? Move out? Only deal with Henry Monday, Wednesday, Friday? You want to be a stepmother. You want it," Rachel said.

"I just said I -"

"You said you weren't ready. Fuck it, I had 10 months and I wasn't ready to be a mother. I'm still not," Rachel said.

"Fine," Olivia said.

"I love when you pout," Rachel said. "It makes me feel like the older sister for once."

!

"Don't worry," Olivia said to Peter as they drove to the upstate New York barn. "Lincoln and Asher will take very good care of Henry."

"I know," Peter said. He still looked down at his phone, waiting for the emergency summons, apparently. "My Russian is not that good."

"Better than the rest of us," Olivia said. She huffed as she looked in the rearview mirror. They were a convoy of three FBI SUVs. Behind her was Astrid and Walter. To her displeasure, the one behind that had the other Lincoln Lee and Agent Danzig that she'd met when she'd been over there. She supposed it was the least they could do, since the other side's Astrid had found this barn. It was the source of the other shapeshifters, a flow that had finally stopped just last week.

She wouldn't have minded Charlie but apparently he was busy and the other Olivia was never an option. Astrid had a no diapering Bishops policy so Lincoln and Asher's volunteering was the only way they got Peter to join them.

They all pulled to a stop half a mile from the barn. She checked Peter checking his gun and tightened his vest.

The other Lincoln got out his other side equipment and squinted through some kind of binoculars. "I've got one, two heat signatures. We're too far away to tell."

"Someone's in there," Danzig said. "We know that."

"Maybe our missing Russian, recuperating from sending over all those shapeshifters," Peter said.

They didn't say anything else as they spread out and approached. Astrid and Walter stayed back with the cars. Walter wasn't someone who was first in the door.

At 100 feet, Olivia collapsed from the sudden pain in her head. No one else was reacting. Her eyes saw red, her brain felt nails exploding out, she grabbed for Peter.

She heard him saying something in his walky. She couldn't stand or move away from the pain. Then there was warm arms around her, dragging her back. At 150 feet the pain subsided enough for her to describe what was happening to Peter and Astrid. Peter said, "Astrid, take her back to Walter, let's see if he can figure it out."

"When I left Walter, he said maybe it was the cortexiphan," Astrid said. Olivia couldn't quite form words.

"The Russian wasn't treated with cortexiphan," Peter said. "Take her back carefully and tell Walter to think of something else."

Olivia had barely recovered when she got back to the cars. Walter fussed over her and tried headphones, shining lights in her eyes, giving her painkillers. Olivia hurt so much she didn't even question Walter when he put the pills in her hand.

Astrid said, "It's not because she's a woman, Walter, I got right up to where she started to hurt and felt nothing at all."

"Yes, I will have to eliminate that idea. I still think, I have a sense it's the cortexiphan. I just do," Walter said.

Olivia scrubbed at her face as Astrid's walky crackled to life. It was Peter. "Walter, your theory might be right."

"Oooh, I told you so," Walter said.

Astrid said, "Why do you think so?"

Another voice came over, this one Danzig. "The barn is deserted now. Was occupied up to this morning near as we can tell by two individuals. Second individual was captive."

"It's another Olivia," Peter said.


	10. I never asked for my heart back

References to torture, hypervigilance, reactions to trauma.

* * *

Peter sat in the very plain chair Massive Dynamic had provided and watched this other other Olivia pace. He was going to call her Livvy in his head, he decided. If she was anything like the other Olivia Dunhams he had met, she would hate that. He didn't remember the other Olivia Dunham very well, but he was guessing. He had to call her something.

Livvy was emaciated with ugly injection sites on her arm. Massive Dynamic had her attached to an IV that allowed her to walk, she needed everything and the kitchen sink back in her body. Still, she paced. She was also on anti-anxiety pills which seemed the best for someone held hostage for over three months.

She recognized everyone except Peter and Agent Danzig, so Peter had been chosen as her interrogator. He preferred to think of himself as her interviewer and he thought that approach would work better. He said, "Is there anything we can do for you right now?"

Livvy shook her head. "I appreciate the shower and clothes and everything else. I guess a haircut is too much to ask."

"Actually, I know how to do that," Peter said. He remembered working at a salon at some point in his life.

"You're kidding," she said.

"I'm not," he said.

"He dyed my hair and then he didn't and it looks awful," Livvy said, staring at herself in the mirror, pulling at her hacked hair. "I don't know why he did it. He never let me leave where he was holding me. It was probably one more way to ruin my day. You could just shave my head."

Peter approached her slowly. "I think I could salvage a sort of pixie cut just cutting off the black."

"Okay, I want that," Livvy said. "When were you a hairdresser?"

"I don't remember," Peter said.

"That's not confidence inspiring," she said.

"I have brain damage, but it doesn't affect my learned skills. Just my ability to remember how I got them," Peter said, smiling.

She frowned but she helped him wet her hair and sit up in a chair as he combed her hair out. "Your hair looks like someone just attacked it randomly. Sorry if that's the wrong word."

"No, it's accurate. He cut my hair like this."

Peter nodded. Of course, the Massive Dynamics room for interviewing traumatized experiment subjects had shears for hair. Once he started, he fell into the rhythm of it easily. "It's going to be a Rosemary's Baby Mia Farrow kind of short cut, but I think you might even like it."

"As long as it comes without the baby from Satan," she said, lightly.

He didn't try to talk to her while he had the scissors in hand. When he was done, he let her go to the mirror and admire it while he cleaned up the hair. He put it all in an evidence bag so Walter or his scientists could analyze it. He suspected Livvy wouldn't know everything she'd been subjected to or wouldn't want to articulate it.

He sat back down and waited for her to start pacing again, holding onto her IV stand. Instead she sat down across from him. She said, "You're Peter Bishop."

"The first you've met, right?"

"Yeah," she said. "In my, in my universe, Peter Bishop was kidnapped in 1985 to an alternate universe. He's still there, or he was still there. I've been away."

"The alternate universe being the more scientifically advanced one, with the zeppelins and blimps instead of airplanes," Peter said.

Livvy nodded. "Do you want the whole story?"

"Can we ever know what the whole story is? What you feel comfortable saying now is fine," Peter said.

"Oh God, you're a Bishop." She pushed her short hair back. She said, "On my side, Bell and Walter took a bunch of drugs and had this idea that by giving children the right drugs, they could open the kids to a perception that would allow them to be singularly blessed. To have abilities. Adults were limited by life and growing up. Something like that." She frowned. "The first time they realized there was another side was when they started cortexiphan trials. And I saw it."

Peter nodded. He went over to the side bar and made her coffee. He brought the mug to her, standing away from her as he handed it over. She took it, nearly smiling at him.

She said, "On our other side, it was different. They were scientifically advanced, like you say, even with the blimps. That Walter had started back in his teens trying to see and get to alternate universes. So when his Peter died just before he found the cure, he could see Peter on my side had survived." Livvy sipped her coffee. She said, "Walter had used cortexiphan on him, to prolong his life. Just enough so the other Walter could abandon all his principles about not breaking the barrier between universes and come over here and take him."

Peter smiled. "It was the exact opposite here, which is funny to me."

"Hilarious, I'm sure," she said.

"I'm from the other side, I was the kidnapped one. My father was so angry, I don't think he could conceive of a world where he would be the kid snatcher," Peter said.

Livvy looked up at him and then quickly down at her coffee. Peter said, "So your world experienced the disasters of the broken universe. Blight, wormholes, extreme weather."

"Yes," she said. "We don't have wormholes yet, but we've had all the rest. That's why Walter kept up the cortexiphan trials. Years and years. It didn't stop until I was 18. He was working for the government by then."

"Like when our Olivia flashed over to your side," Peter said.

Livvy's hands tightened on her cup. "She didn't flash over, she was in my head and body. When she left I was on the ground, in pain from the noise, being pushed out."

"She never meant that to happen," Peter said. "She didn't know."

"Of course not," she said. "She's untrained, some kind of over-emotional loose canon."

"I don't think that's how I'd describe her, but I see your point," Peter said. "Did you come here? Did your other side?"

"I watched. Traveling here or my other side is dangerous, we planned carefully. We watched so we were prepared. Unlike that Walter, we take breaking the barriers very seriously. I've never been to my other side, just observed."

"But you were sending the shapeshifters over in this universe after you were taken," Peter said.

She shuddered. "That fucker, that man, kidnapped me. I don't know how he got over to our side, but he did. He just snatched me. He drugged me and threatened me. When he does it, it feels like dying to him. It hastens his death, he thinks. So he had me do it," she said. "There were drugs and shocks." Her voice was quiet. "And more. He's not well."

"Tell me more about him," Peter said. "We want to find him."

"You should," Livvy said. "He's Russian. From this side. This universe. He was taken from his parents when he was three and raised in a Soviet laboratory. They weren't very good parents. He's obsessed with purity. No one who compromises is good. Purity of ideology, I mean. One misstep and you're not a hypocrite, you're a killer, destroying everything."

"He's not political?"

"He's nothing," she said. "He rants but it he never has a point. He's an angry white guy." she sighed. "He calls himself Sasha. I can describe him. His real hope is to find a way to destroy these two universes and then, I guess start on my two."

"How do the shapeshifters play into that?"

"They don't. He tried mind control, it wasn't effective enough. He's not a great planner, you know, no compromises. He sent the shapeshifters so he could research the Bridge. He wants to blow it up. He wants to blow it up so much it takes out both universes. Is that possible?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. It's a powerful machine. I was in there."

"And it worked," Livvy said. "Do you think we have one?"

"I'm sure you do," Peter said. "When we get you home, I'll get you the coordinates so you can build it. And some other information. But it only works for Peter Bishops."

"Given who raised him, I doubt our Peter Bishop would consider it," Livvy said. She yawned.

Peter said, "You sleep. I'm sorry, the door is locked, we're worried about losing you or him finding you. But you have a window to look out. And I promise we're going to get you home."

"Maybe I can do it myself," Livvy said.

"If you could, wouldn't you be gone by now?"

She sighed and sprawled on the bed. "Do you talk to me tomorrow?"

"Unless you want someone else," Peter said.

"Could you bring Charlie?" Her voice was soft. "Is he here?"

He said, "I'll do my best."

!

Olivia jiggled a peevish Henry on her lap as Peter walked out. He went straight for her, but she knew him, she handed over the baby to his open arms. Peter sat down next to her and kissed her cheek. He said, "I care about you, too, I swear."

"She's doing it for us," Astrid said. "Ever since Asher and Lincoln got here, Henry has been very clear about whose company he wants."

"Aww," Peter said, smiling at the baby. "It's nice to be loved."

"We should talk about what we just heard," Lincoln from the other side said. He looked considerably more irritated than Agent Danzig. But he'd been irritated since Henry arrived with Lincoln and Asher.

Nina said, "From the tests we ran, this Olivia is genetically identical to both Olivias. I'll need Walter to look closer, but I do think there's a slightly different composition to the cortexiphan between the two of you."

"Did you do a spinal tap on her?" Olivia was appalled.

"We don't have to do that to test for cortexiphan, we have much more sophisticated and less invasive scanners," Nina said.

"Let me see," Peter said, holding out a hand. "Where's Walter?"

"He had some supplements on him I didn't catch," Astrid said. "He wanted to calm himself down and it worked too well. He'll be great in the morning."

"Great," the other Lincoln huffed.

Asher kept staring at the other Lincoln and then back at his boyfriend. "So weird," he muttered.

"Okay," Peter said. "Nina, has Massive Dynamic made any progress on a grid search around that barn?"

"We don't have many cameras in the area, but we're using the camera footage from the Ottoli case to search," she said.

"What we need," Olivia said. "Is for you to get to the CIA to release all their files. This is 100% a Fringe case now and them hoarding whatever they have is threatening the universe. Two universes."

"I'll try to phrase it that way," Nina said, leaving the room.

It was just the two Lincolns, Asher, Agent Danzig, Astrid, and Peter. Asher said, "Do we get the Thompson LES tonight?" He had a slight smile.

"Yes," Peter said. "I already reserved three rooms, Astrid you get your very own room. Agent Lee, Agent Danzig, we can put you up in a hotel if you want, I'm sorry, there weren't any available at the Thompson."

"We want a hotel room, of course," Agent Lee said. "What's the Thompson LES?"

Olivia said. "A really nice hotel. I think Peter can find you something that's nice and closer to here. We'll find a way for you to talk to your Broyles before tomorrow morning, of course."

Lincoln frowned but accepted it.

It was two hours before they were in their hotel room and another half hour before Olivia finally got Henry asleep. She should have asked Peter, but he was engrossed with the test results and preparing theories to debate with Walter.

She was setting a bad precedent. Like she was Henry's stepmother. Henry was so worn down and exhausted and all he wanted, clearly, was to be held by his people. Olivia was one of his people at this point. She loved how he relaxed with her, how much he loved her. He didn't realize Olivia wasn't good at this.

She wanted to whisper, "Don't get too attached," to Henry. She wouldn't have meant it.

Instead she laid in bed and put her arm around Henry so he was sleeping with her arm surrounding him. She'd done that with Ella, more than once. This felt different than that. "I love you," she whispered.

Peter said quietly, "I heard that."

She rolled her eyes. "You caught me, I like the tiny baby."

Peter said, "Did you see how much he irritated the other Lincoln? Like Henry offended him."

"You know, the other Olivia probably can't have children," Olivia said. "Her sister died of a kind of viral eclampsia and she probably has it, too."

"Does she want kids?"

"I don't know," Olivia said. "She's with Lincoln now, ask him."

"No," Peter said, organizing his notes. He got in bed on the other side of Henry. "So she hates kids and he hates kids? I don't follow."

"I didn't mean that at all," Olivia said. "I only meant to say that the issue of kids is complicated for her, and that was even before you gave them all an actual future that wasn't dying in five years."

"Maybe it's because we have it easy," Peter said.

"Maybe he saw how much Henry looks like his mother and it hurts him. Maybe we should stop analyzing the poor guy," Olivia said. "We don't want to be smug parents."

"We're kind of smug parents," Peter said, a small smile on his face like he knew she'd said something significant.

!

Walter Bishop called the woman Olivia 3. "Doesn't matter if you consider yours 1 or ours 1, she is definitely 3."

Lincoln nodded. The other Walter Bishop was nothing like the Secretary. He babbled and got lost in his thoughts and only once in a while had a look on his face like he wouldn't be bothered killing everyone on the planet.

Lincoln and Agent Danzig poured over the data Nina had secured from the CIA. It was extensive. "These experiments are barbaric," Lincoln said. Their would-be destroyer of worlds was either Evgeni or Maxim. Neither boy had a last name at all, all the records called them Evgeni or Maxim. It was repulsive.

Walter nodded repeatedly like he agreed. But Lincoln knew the man had conducted experiments on this side's Olivia, among others.

"We were obsessed with perception," Walter said. "Belly and I, we took large quantities of LSD. I don't know if you're familiar with the drug, it has amazing properties that can change your life, how you perceive your life. Perception shapes reality, what we perceive is reality. The commies were much more about concrete concepts. The parallel universes vibrated at a different frequency so sound and vibration was what they needed to work on."

"So they tried to turn these kids into tuning forks," Agent Danzig said. He plucked pictures of 10 year old Evgeni and nine year old Maxim from the files. "I'm sending these to Astrid. She can age them up and start searching."

"Although the very nature of their, ah, forkness, may have changed their facial structure," Walter said.

"You're kidding," Lincoln said.

"One of these sets of notes indicates even these two success stories had moments when they could not control the phasing. Maxim, in particular, did something wrong in 1988 and turned the bones in his hand to dust," Walter said. "Well, I never caused that at least."

Lincoln was at the edge of his tolerance for this horror show. He'd had enough when he was firing the Secretary's men and women. This was just more. He was going to tell Liv they shouldn't even think about kids in a world capable of all of this.

Then Peter came in with his report on his meeting with Olivia 3. He and Walter started trying to explain things on a whiteboard. All Lincoln got from it was that when Walter kidnapped Peter, two parallel lines had stopped going straight, instead they were tangled and sweeping around, even hitting other lines. The Bridge kept the two universes on parallel lines. "This is a gross oversimplification," Peter said.

"Thank God," Agent Danzig said. "We already spoke to Broyles about increasing security on our side around the Bridge."

Lincoln sighed. "We're sure that your bad guy had an ally, maybe still does, in the administration on our side. Someone told him how to track down the shapeshifters and bring them back, ready to kill. It might be an anti-amber activist who tried to have Charlie and Liv and I killed."

"Or it could be unrelated," Peter said. "It would be nice to lay all the evil in the world at this guy's feet, but we can't make assumptions."

"He had to have someone on the inside," Lincoln said, glaring at Peter.

"Agreed," Peter said. "I just don't want to miss finding the inside man because you're looking for someone else."

"I know how to do my job," Lincoln said. He exhaled loudly and walked out of the room. He found Charlie sitting outside Olivia 3's room.

"When do we get to go home, boss?"

"Wish I knew," Lincoln said.

"She wanted me there because in her universe, she's married to Charlie Francis," Charlie said.

"I won't tell Mona if you tell Liv," Lincoln said.

Charlie grinned. "That poor girl. Her Charlie was a widower, they started dating two years ago. Now they're married."

"I bet he misses her," Lincoln said.

"Peter was good at talking to her. Why do you want to smack him around again?"

"He irks me," Lincoln said. "That condescending amnesia thing."

"People with brain damage, they're such assholes," Charlie said.

"He's standing right behind me, right?"

"No," Charlie said. "It's just the two of us out here."

Lincoln shrugged. "I just want to go home. All of this is irritating."

"At least we have some answers," Charlie said. "And we can tell Liv how good she'd look with a short hair cut."

"Don't you dare," Lincoln said.

Charlie shook his head. "Poor girl." Lincoln could tell he was thinking of Olivia 3. "I wish I could have helped her more."

"It was probably helpful just to see an uglier version of her husband," Lincoln said.

!

Liv said, "Three universes."

"At least four," Charlie said. "In the universe where you and I are married, the Secretary was the kidnapper."

"I can believe that," Liv said. "His wife says he used to be a good man, after all."

"Cause you have to be a good man to kidnap a child?" Lincoln glanced at her. "We need to talk about how you define a bad man."

"A good father, I mean. He loved his son," Liv said.

Charlie swallowed the last of his beer and tapped the table as he said goodbye.

Liv said, "So you saw the kid, right?"

"Yup," Lincoln said. "He looked like a baby. Blond, wispy hair, chubby little body, blue eyes. Kind of whiny."

"How is a baby kind of whiny? It's a baby," Liv said, smiling.

"Their Lincoln and his boyfriend brought the baby up to New York and he whined a lot. He wasn't happy until he was with Peter," Lincoln said.

"Lincoln has a boyfriend," Liv said.

"I used to date that guy, actually," Lincoln said. "Asher. Two years in college. My dad loved him. More than me, I think."

"In the third universe you're probably dating Peter," Liv said.

"Maybe," Lincoln said. "There's no Peter in universe 3, he's in universe 4 so maybe we're high school sweethearts. I dunno, does Peter even swing that way?"

"Yes," Liv said. "He told me back when."

"There you go," Lincoln said.

"You're in a very foul mood," Liv said. "Did the baby upset you?"

"No," Lincoln said. "That other Olivia did. He kept her, she was strapped down, and chained to a wall. She was drugged. And he was using her for her powers. That's just what we did."

"That's not what we did at all," Liv said.

"The Secretary and Brandon did a lot of fucked up shit," Lincoln said. "I hate that I participated and don't tell me I didn't know. I still did it. I thought we were the good guys."

"You were 100% the good guy," Liv said. "I'm the one who did bad things, remember? If you and Charlie had known she wasn't me, you would have helped her." In the bar's dimmed lights, he could see the gold shimmer of her eyeshadow. She pulled it off somehow, beautiful and bright.

"It's nice you think that."

"You were lied to, we were all lied to. We were told the other side was evil. All demons. But they're not. They had nothing to do with any of it, most of them," Liv said. She patted Lincoln's arm. "You're not the same as evil Maxim."

"We're sure it's Maxim? Is Sasha even a nickname for Maxim?"

"Yes and no," Liv said.

"Even Maxim, he was experimented on. He was used his entire life. Now he wants revenge on the whole world, and I don't know, what do we do when we catch him? We're just one more tormentor," Lincoln said.

"I'd feel more sorry for him if he weren't trying to destroy our world, and a few others," Liv said.

Lincoln tucked Liv's hair behind her ear. He said, "Apparently, in Charlie's opinion, you look great with a pixie cut."

"Ugh, I would never cut that my hair that short," Liv said. "Come on, let's go home. You won't have to go to the other side for a while, you can recover your bearings."

"This weekend is Mom's wedding, damn," Lincoln said. "I'm going to be so hungover."

"I'm excited," Liv said. "So again, let's go home and rest up." She took his hand as they left the bar.

!

The first time Olivia 3 heard Walter call her Olivia 3 she'd gotten angry enough that they all decided to she would now be known as Livvy as she requested, to reduce any confusion with Olivia. "I'll be staying here tonight with you and Walter," Olivia said. She walked around Walter's house, it was the first time she'd been there since Peter's not-death. Someone was keeping it neat, probably the tag team of Lincoln and Astrid.

Walter said, "We'll all be fine. See, as I said, while on our side cortexiphan subjects are largely immune to each other's powers, the cortexiphan formulation from, ah, Livvy's universe makes cortexiphan subjects all that much more vulnerable to each other. So Livvy here was lashing out but you, Olivia, you were the only one affected. But now we'll be fine."

"Thanks for repeating that," Livvy said. Olivia walked her up to Peter's old room. "Peter lived here?"

"Slept in that bed," Olivia said. "We had it in the apartment, but now that room is sort of Henry's nursery. So we brought it back."

Livvy nodded. She sat down on the bed. She said, "Do alternates ever get along or do we always rub each other the wrong way?"

"In my case, it's because you broke my head. After I broke yours, I guess," Olivia said.

"Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll be on the couch. Because of Walter, you shouldn't have to deal with his nuttiness, but this seemed more comfortable than our apartment," Olivia said. "Henry only sleeps 4 hours at a time."

"I get it," Livvy said. "I just want to go home."

"That's all we want," Olivia said. "But we need to find a safe place for you and get you back up to full strength."

"I should be ready already," Livvy said. "To do all that. Not some victim being shuttled from place to place."

Olivia smiled. Livvy said, "What?"

"I never realized how I sounded when I said stuff like that," Olivia said. "Please give yourself time to recover."

"People are waiting for me," Livvy said.

"I know," Olivia said.

Livvy looked around. She said, "Walter used to live in this place on my side. I keep expecting to see Amelia around."

"Who's Amelia?"

"Peter's sister," Livvy said. "She was 6 months old when Peter was taken. She didn't have the same disease. Another irritating genius. She's a good egg, just, you know, irritating."

"I'm trying to imagine a female version of Peter," Olivia said.

"Unlike Peter, she grew up with two loving parents. My Walter never lost his mind, not this much," Livvy said. "Sorry, I sound harsh."

"It's okay," Olivia said. "I understand. You should get some sleep."

Olivia skyped with Peter and Henry before she set herself up on the couch. Peter was showing her that Henry was already picking up on the baby sign language he'd been trying to teach him. "He's too young," Olivia said. "I read those websites."

"He's a genius," Peter said. It did look like Henry was signing an O. "That's his sign for you."

"I love you," Olivia said.

"Me, too," Peter said. He kissed the screen and she missed him so much. She loved her unburdened Peter.

She laid on the couch, listening to Walter murmur in his sleep. New Peter was confusing and cheerful. He was still Peter. They'd been having sex for weeks and he was definitely still Peter there. Except now they had sex on the couch and in the shower and not in the bed because Henry was there. She let herself remember the last time they'd had sex, the way his teeth had grazed her nipples and his fingers steady pressure pushing into her.

Olivia closed her eyes. She woke up two hours later with a blinding headache. She got up off the couch and saw that Walter was sleeping peacefully. She dragged herself upstairs and went to Peter's room. Livvy was tossing in her sleep. Olivia said, "Olivia. Olivia."

Livvy sat straight up and Olivia fell backwards in pain. Livvy said, "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Olivia said. She rubbed at her nose and it was bleeding.

Walter came upstairs at a rush. Also he was naked, which Olivia never found soothing. He said, "Clearly I should have given you a tranquilizer before you went to bed, my dear."

"Yeah," Livvy said. "I would, okay, why don't you go get that?"

He ran back downstairs. Livvy said, "Never pretty in any universe."

"Yeah," Olivia said. "I'm going downstairs, too. You sleep well."

"It was a nightmare," Livvy said.

"I know, I had them, too," Olivia said. "It's okay."

She sat on the couch. She wanted to go home. She wanted her baby and Peter. _Her baby_ , she thought. _Henry_ , she thought.

She texted Peter. He'd answer if he were awake. He still had nightmares. He never remembered them, but he had them. He woke up angry and upset. Then he looked at Henry and calmed down. Sometimes he went right back to sleep.

Peter called her back. He said, quietly, "Why are you awake?"

"Livvy had a nightmare," Olivia said. "I now have a migraine and a nosebleed. Walter, naked, gave her a tranquilizer so she would sleep more soundly. I just, I want to see Henry."

"Okay," Peter said. He hung up. She stared at the phone. Surely he wouldn't.

Five minutes later, Peter was in the living room, putting Henry in the bassinet Walter had bought for Henry's trips. Henry had woken up on the drive over. He looked irritated, his face screwed up and she had seen that expression on Rachel a million times. "You're bad," Olivia said.

"I know, I'm putting my girlfriend over our kid, but I've decided I can do it once or twice. Plus you're not correcting me when I said 'our.'" Peter put Henry in her arms and Henry looked a little less irritated. Henry yawned.

"I want to adopt him," Olivia said.

Peter came at her with a baby wipe. He said, "You have blood on your face."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Peter said. "It's distracting when you have a bloody nose." He wiped her face clean and kissed her. "You know, he's genetically yours."

"It's too complicated to deal with that," Olivia said. "I don't want to explain any of this to Rachel. So adoption."

"Okay," Peter said. He kissed her again. Then he sat back and watched Henry fall asleep. He said, "Then you get to pick his middle name. I mean, neither of us picked Henry, I don't even know who he was named for. He's a Bishop because, well, sometimes he gets that look Walter has when there's an extra tart at the coffee shop or there's mucus that glows in the dark."

"I knew a Henry when I was on the other side," Olivia said. "He was a good man. I don't know how the other one would have met him, though. You know, I always thought being in law enforcement would make naming a child hard."

"Too many criminals named Aiden and Bentley?" Peter smiled.

"I worked on a case with a serial child abuser named Astrid, if you can believe that. Our Astrid is wonderful, but I could never name a kid that. Okay, middle name," Olivia said. "I think, Francis. Do you like Francis?"

"I love it," Peter said.

"Next one, I get to choose the first name," Olivia said.

"Next one?" Peter had that insanely happy smile. The extra tart smile, she thought. Mucus glowing in the dark, like Peter wouldn't love that.

"Next one," Olivia said. "Old fashioned this time, no more snatching out of timelines. I might not want more than just two, to be clear."

"Absolutely," Peter said. "Should we get married?"

"Should we? That's a lousy proposal," Olivia said, smiling.

"Agent Dunham, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Walter said. He was still naked, though now he was eating bread. "Say yes, Olivia."

"I'm so glad you were eavesdropping the whole time, Walter," Peter said.

"You are in my living room," Walter said.

"Yes," Olivia said. "If you get a decent ring."

"So, huge diamond," Peter said.

"I can make one," Walter said. "I can make a real whopper of a diamond."

"She doesn't want a huge diamond," Peter said. "Hey, Walter, can you go back to your bed so I can make out with my fiancee?"

Thankfully, Walter did. They put Henry in the bassinet first.

!

Liv, Charlie and Lincoln had a whole new kind of weird case. People who thought they were going to live and so wanted to finally build their crazy time machines or a host of other contraptions. "All it does is emit poison gas," Lincoln said. He poked the machine and ignored the dead body on the floor. He stepped over the guy and looked at the schematics. "This would never work."

"We evacuated the building, if you were wondering," Charlie said.

Lincoln took notes on his tablet. "These are the component gases, if you pass them to the hospital, they should be able to help anyone who got a whiff."

"I would've built my time machine before we had a future, not now," Liv said. She painted her fingernails now, she had shimmery black fingernails today. "Like, go back 500 years, live out a real life."

"500 years ago, no TV, no internet," Charlie said. "No porn."

"There's always porn," Lincoln said. "People were drawing vulvas in cave paintings."

"Okay, so he has some very primitive porn, but what else do you have 500 years ago?"

"Clean air," Liv said. "Fertile fields. Sheep."

"I like TV better," Charlie said. "And porn that's better than vulva paintings."

Liv said, "Does Mona know about your porn obsession?"

"She has incredible taste in porn," Charlie said. "She's the one for me."

"Porn and bugs, she's a treasure," Liv said, smiling.

!

"Why are you here?" Walternate asked.

"I wanted to see how you are doing," Peter said. He had come to this side to tell his mother he was getting married, at the courthouse, in a few weeks. He had also gotten a briefing at the complete lack of success anyone had had finding Maxim. Nor was Fringe division any closer to finding Maxim's inside man. None of that was the ex-Secretary's business, any more than Peter's son was.

"Really?" The man had a gift for packing contempt into short syllables, Peter had to admit.

"You weren't the only one to wonder why," Peter said.

"I can't imagine your girlfriend is very pleased," Walternate said. He made girlfriend sound like he was saying _shit covered scum_.

Peter said, "I don't remember what you did. Everyone's told me, in a lot of detail. But it's abstract to me." He sat down in one of the two chairs in the austere living room. "I've started to remember things, but it's all been good stuff, nice things. Maybe this is a gift. For me and you."

"That sounds like nonsense," Walternate said. "I am a man of science, not sentiment. You sound like the loon that raised you."

Peter smiled. "Since he argues constantly that perception shapes reality, I don't think it's leap to think that in the complex functions of the brain memories could be sorted as bad or good. I perceive I would prefer not to remember and I don't."

Walternate shook his head. "What a naive way to live."

Peter said, "So what do you do all day? You live up here alone and you do what?"

Walternate stared him down. When Peter said nothing more, Walternate said, "I'm not plotting anything."

"I don't think you are. If you were, you would make more of an effort with me."

Walternate almost smiled. "Yes, my rudeness makes my innocence more probable." He finally sat down in the other chair. "I wake up, I make myself breakfast, I take a brisk walk. I read studies about the damage afflicting the world and try to find solutions. In some cases, I have already sent recommendations on to the relevant authorities."

Peter nodded. "Do you get many visitors?"

"No," Walternate said. "I appreciate the ones I do get."

"Even me?" Peter smiled.

Walternate didn't deign to answer. After a few moments he said, "If you remembered anything you wouldn't be here."

"I do, though," Peter said. "I was three, and it was snowing. I remember you cursing and laughing trying to get on my snowsuit and I kept trying to take it off. I thought it was hilarious and you didn't."

Walternate looked at him coldly. "That boy was taken from me and that act of thievery tore the fabric of this universe apart."

Peter smiled and stood up. "Okay. I'll probably come back, though, you haven't scared me off."

"I doubt you'll be back," Walternate said as he followed Peter out and closed the door behind him.

Olivia really didn't want hear about his visit. "I know he upsets you," Peter said.

"It's not upset," Olivia said. "He kidnapped you. He sent that woman here and drugged and brainwashed me. I don't understand why you would ever want to see him. Do you not believe us about what he did?"

"I absolutely do," he said. "But I feel like this amnesia, it's a gift. It's a second chance. He lost a child and his world fell apart, literally. It's understandable he's reacted ruthlessly. It's not excusable, but it's understandable."

"You sound so -"

"Naive?" He sat down next to her. "That's what Walter said."

Olivia looked down at her laptop. She said, "You can forget your pain all you want, but the rest of us can't. We don't just forget the pain he caused you."

He reached for her knee, gripped it. He said, "I know. I promise. But we have Henry now and I just, I have to believe there's good in him. He loved me like I love Henry."

Olivia twisted her engagement ring. He'd had fun making it, creating ultra thin gold wire, spinning it around in intricate patterns. The ring looked simple unless you were close to it. When the light hit it right, it reflected fractal patterns. Olivia seemed enthusiastic about it.

Olivia said, "He hurt us, he had Charlie killed."

Peter just nodded. "I need this. I can't explain why. Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad, I'm not upset. I don't want to hear about it."

!

Lincoln and Liv went to Charlie's wedding. Mona didn't have a bug in the oven, as Liv put it, but neither she nor Charlie wanted a big to do so they were just having a party. Also, Charlie had nearly died when another suicide cult blew up a building.

"She realized she wouldn't get any of his death benefits," Lincoln said quietly to Liv.

"Come on, she's nicer than that," Liv said.

"I know," Lincoln said. "But we're mean to each other, it's what we do. I wanted to get it out of my system."

"Ah, just say mean things to me, so you don't get punched on Charlie's wedding day."

"He's taking a month long honeymoon," Lincoln said. Lincoln sighed. He'd like a month off. He could just take it, but not now that Charlie had. He knew Liv wouldn't take a month off and what was the point of vacationing without her? He looked over at her and wondered if he was right.

"Do you think they'll have kids?"

Lincoln took Liv's hand. "Maybe they will."

"They'd be weird parents. Good, but weird. Little mobiles of spiders and worms over the crib," Liv said.

"They could name the baby Arachnid if it's a boy or a girl," Lincoln said.

"One of the nicknames could be Ned, that's a solid name," Liv said. "I would be okay if I never had sex with anyone besides you for the rest of my life. Even if that's 70 years."

"What if we finally had a threesome?"

"Finally?" Liv said. She was grinning at him.

"I don't know, I couldn't think of how to answer that," Lincoln said. "You're a handful."

"Thank you," Liv said.

Mona came over, saying to Liv, "Oh, god, your makeup is fantastic."

"Thanks," Liv said. She had made an effort, Lincoln had watched her in the bathroom. She added, "Yours is better. You're the prettiest in this room, man or woman."

Mona blushed. "Thank you."

Lincoln said, "Charlie is so marrying up."

Mona laughed and moved on to the next set of guests. Lincoln waited until she was out of earshot to say, "Threesome with Mona but not Charlie, what do you think?"

"We'd be only be attractive to her if we got a lice infestation or something," Liv said.

The first day of Charlie's honeymoon, they finally got a lead on the anti-amber inside man. Who was a woman. Astrid had been correlating information, and Lincoln spotted the woman as someone he'd interviewed for the ex-Secretary's purge on footage Astrid has. "Why would she be there?"

"I believe this footage shows someone scouting a location for a bomb. A bomb that went off too soon to hurt any Fringe division agents but did kill two construction workers," Astrid said. "The police handled it, but when I reviewed the bomb's wiring it was very similar to the bomb that nearly killed you and Agent Francis. We interviewed her."

"We did," Lincoln said. "We decided she was mostly innocent."

"We did not decide she was mostly innocent. Innocent is not a correct description of her state of culpability and cruelty," Astrid said. "Nothing in her record or demeanor indicated she was involved in persecuting people who disagreed with the Secretary or sending killers to the other universe."

"Liv, I think we have a lead," Lincoln said.

They went to Ms. Littleton's home to arrest her by themselves, which was a mistake. She had no military training and they thought she would be unarmed. She answered the door with a shotgun pointed at the two of them. "I saw you coming up," she said. "You think I didn't recognize you?"

"We were hoping we could talk," Liv said. "Maybe you could explain why you keep trying to kill us."

"You know exactly why," Ms. Littleton said. "Amber is state sanctioned torture of innocent civilians. We know, you know, they're still alive in there. They're in stasis. You can free them and you don't."

"If we free them," Lincoln said. His voice wasn't steady. He took a deep breath and watched Ms. Littleton's hands on the gun. He could push Liv out of the way and take the blow. "If we free them, the integrity of the amber collapses, and the wormholes destroy everything."

Liv said, "Before you kill us, I wonder if you were working with a Russian man named Sasha or Maxim? It would be nice to know."

"I'm not," Ms. Littleton said. Lincoln really wished he hadn't blanked on her first name. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you and myself."

Her hands on the shotgun were shaking.

Liv ducked suddenly, tackling Ms. Littleton as the shotgun went off. Lincoln took the shotgun away from her and said, "Liv, you okay? Liv?"

"I'm fine," she said. She pulled up Belinda Littleton and put cuffs on her. "I was waiting for you to move on her. Then I realized you weren't."

"I was going to push you out of the way and take the bullet if she pulled the trigger," Lincoln said. "Excuse me."

"You've obviously never killed anyone, Belinda," Liv said. "That's sweet, Lincoln, but she obviously wasn't capable of killing us."

"Fine," Lincoln said. "Next time I won't even think about sacrificing myself."

"Not if you don't have to," Liv said. She rolled her eyes, which was somehow more effective at communicating contempt with her perfect cat eye eyeliner.

Belinda glared at both of them.

!

Olivia, Astrid, and Lincoln went to Ohio to investigate a series of murders where the dead were apparently strangled by tentacles. Lincoln said, "You couldn't do that with a tentacle dildo, right?"

"No," Olivia said. "Maybe someone's just using tentacles as a garrotte."

"A garrotte works by cutting, a tentacle couldn't do that," Lincoln said.

Astrid said, "Just to put it out there: malevolent octopus."

"Find me the body of water where it's living," Olivia said.

They sent the bodies and other samples back to Walter. There were no witnesses to question.

Astrid volunteered to put herself in the same park where the other victims had been killed. The park was a full two acres, though, and it would take them a month to have her walk down every path.

Lincoln said, "If it's a malevolent octopus, it needs water, right? Maybe we can find a small pond or well spring. We could have Astrid walk round there."

"It's a start," Olivia said.

The found the monster on the third night. It was some kind of mutant octopus and lizard. Possibly transgenic, Walter speculated. Lincoln and Olivia had shot it 12 times in any body part they could aim at without hitting Astrid.

"I had my knife ready," Astrid said, coughing. "But it wrapped around my arms."

"We saved you, we stopped the killer," Lincoln said. "It's okay if you didn't contribute."

Astrid smirked. "I contributed. I stood still while you shot at me."

"We weren't going to hit you," Olivia said. "Probably."

Olivia told the story to Peter when she was finally in her own bed with him. He said, "Octopus and lizard?"

"It had three legs and 9 tentacles," Olivia said. "Walter is going to have so much fun with the corpse."

"I almost wish I was working," Peter said.

Henry yawned. "No, you don't," Olivia said.

"I'm sure Walter will tell me all about it," Peter said. "I missed you. Henry missed you. Livvy probably missed you in some way, but she might not have. Everyone is glad the lizapus didn't kill you or Astrid or Lincoln."

!

Livvy took her tranquilizers and stayed with Walter without incident. She met with Dr. Felton in the morning, took a handful of pills and usually ended up with Peter watching Henry in the afternoon. It wasn't just the hair that set her apart from Olivia. She was more of a soldier, more focused on work. She often complained about her itch to be involved.

"Maybe I could help at the lab," Livvy said for the 100th time.

"You're not ready," Peter said. "You jump five feet at sudden sounds, needles make you shake and the crackle of electricity makes you shut down. This isn't weakness."

"It's exactly weakness," Livvy said. She was lying on the floor watching Henry do his tummy time. Henry's determined face looked a lot like Livvy's.

She would talk about her side, she catalogued the differences. She seemed to think the team on this side had it easier. He never corrected her. It was what she needed.

One week, she said, "I like that you're not that attracted to me," she said.

"My type is not Olivia Dunham, it's this Olivia Dunham," Peter said. "That makes you feel better?"

"I see the similarities here and I wonder if we're all just pieces of a mobile, going around the same circles, forming the same associations each time," she said. She poked at Henry's mobile above his bassinet.

"Some things happen over and over again. One of me always seem to die," Peter said.

"Henry doesn't have that disease," Livvy said, tentatively.

"He had a mild version of it that was easy to cure. We know how to do that, after all," Peter said.

"We only have our two, or four universes to look at though," Livvy said.

"But the machine was put on the planet so long ago. Time travel," Peter said. "Maybe the very existence of the machine makes it happen. There has to be a Peter to get into it, there has to be a breach to heal."

Livvy looked up. "That's sad. You made sure you would die millions of times."

"Technically, not me. It was another Peter in the machine who actually worked with a Walter to make it and then went back and planted it all around," Peter said. "I'm the Peter who stole that guy's kid before he knew it existed or that he was wiping the kid out."

After six or seven weeks, Livvy started curtailing her time in therapy and her time with Peter. She was going to the lab now that she was less traumatized. She was trying to teach Olivia as a means to get her own strength back.

!

"I'm sorry we haven't gotten you home yet," Peter said. He straightened his tie for the fiftieth time.

Livvy said, "It's my fault, I should be able to get myself home."

"We said we'd help you," Peter said.

"You can leave, I'll be okay," Livvy said. "Go, get married. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" She nodded and Peter took one last look in the mirror. Olivia, Rachel, Ella and Henry had been staying at the apartment for the last two days while Peter had been living with Walter and Livvy. It was only where he slept at night, he spent all day at the apartment with Henry as usual.

He drove himself to the courthouse. He started to think about how they were all going to get home from here but he decided to stop. It was his wedding day.

As soon as he walked into the room where they were all meeting, Rachel put Henry in his arms. She said, "He's been signing for you for hours."

"He wanted me to see him in his awesome little suit," Peter said.

"Our wedding gift," Asher said, arm around Lincoln. "I know you said no gifts, but we had to."

"He's going to outgrow it in two months," Astrid said.

"We can put it aside with my tuxedo from my wedding you decided not to wear," Walter said, still a little huffy.

"Quite the hope chest Henry's going to have," Olivia said. She looked beautiful. She was wearing a simple blue dress but she was definitely radiant. "We can do this in five minutes."

"You're both so sentimental," Astrid said.

"Sorry," Peter said. He saw his mother, sitting in the corner next to Broyles, smiling. Nina was hovering near both of them. "Mom, I'm so glad you could come."

"I'm overjoyed," she said, with a little catch in her voice.

It was over quickly. The judge had them repeat the traditional vows minus anything about obeying. Then the adoption was finalized. People cried, definitely Walter, a little bit Peter. Henry laughed. Ella clapped.

At the end of the day, they were married and back at the apartment, just the two of them and Henry. Peter said, "I think I should try to get my memories back. All of them."

"Why?" She unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor.

Peter tried to breathe or remember his words. "I," he said, "I remember those thigh highs."

She smiled. "What more do you need to remember?"

"I don't like not remembering our time together, all of it," he said.

"I don't mind," Olivia said. She was now only wearing the thigh highs and slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"Okay," Peter said. "Okay. You convinced me."

!

Olivia spent part of every day with Livvy now. It was both a learning experience for Olivia and a way to get Livvy back to her full strength. Livvy stayed in the lab when Astrid, Lincoln and Olivia went off for cases.

She came home to Peter. He was generally in his usual optimistic mood and slightly exhausted by Henry. "Today," Peter said, "We go to the library for story time. One of the other mothers looks over at me and says, 'Henry is a strange name for a girl.'"

"Was he in his pink shirt or the pink leggings?" At that moment Henry was only in his diaper since it was dinner time.

"One of his pink shirts. I said Henry is a boy, and she actually says 'Then why is he wearing pink?' Naturally I launched into my history of gender coding colors -"

Olivia said, "Teddy Roosevelt wore pink."

Peter smiled. "Yes. She says something about here and now wearing pink will confuse Henry and I say, he's still confused by peek-a-boo sometimes. Before I could say something and come out, the librarian tells the other woman that she's disrupting story time and making patrons uncomfortable."

"Another triumph," Olivia said. She kissed the top of Henry's head and then kissed Peter. He had made dinner for the three of them.

"We're getting closer with Livvy," Olivia said. "She's still abrasive."

"She -"

"I know, Peter, she endured torture, she misses her husband, she was an experiment like me but for even longer. She lives with the apocalypse falling all around her," Olivia said.

Peter nodded. "But she still rubs you the wrong way."

"Maybe no one gets along with their alternate," Olivia said. "But soon she thinks she'll be able to find a safe way home. It makes me nervous that we haven't heard anything from Maxim."

"Or we haven't linked him to what he's doing," Peter said.

"Did you look at the reports on those sentient flowers?"

"They're not sentient," Peter said. "Well, Walter would argue all plants are sentient, but, no, they don't have intelligence."

"Any thoughts?"

"Not from me, either," Peter said. "I don't really have a lot of time to read or do anything but keep Henry from setting us both on fire."

Olivia looked at him. Peter said, "Yes, I looked instead at my brain scans and thought about ways to get all my memories back. Unintelligent flowers tomorrow."

"I know you have limited time, I know being a stay at home dad is not eating bon bons," Olivia said.

"You know, I'm not sure I've ever had a bon bon. I bet Walter has. He could make it for me," Peter said.

Henry had finished eating and was mashing peas into his hair.

The next day Olivia went into work and immediately took off her blazer. Astrid said, "Is that spit up?"

"Nope, it's vomit," Olivia said. "That I missed from three days ago. That's not incredibly embarrassing."

Astrid sat down and pulled the blazer to her. She wet a surgical rag with something from an unlabeled blue bottle. "Walter made this for me, I don't ask what's in it." She rubbed at the blazer.

"You don't have to do this for me," Olivia said.

"I don't mind," Astrid said. "I miss working with Peter."

"Thanks," Olivia said.

Astrid smiled. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just thinking about it. He's good company."

"He is," Olivia said. "So how are you? Do you want to tell me about minutiae like I was Peter?"

"You don't care," Astrid said.

"Yes, I do," Olivia said. "I'll tell Peter and he can relay back questions."

"I could just call him," Astrid said.

"You get about five minutes if you're lucky," Olivia said.

"I know," Astrid said. "I'm feeling really good about not having children."

"It's not that bad," Olivia said.

"It's totally that bad," Astrid said. "You and Peter love it, I'm happy to just come by for a few hours and then go home."

"Does your girlfriend feel the same?"

"Basically," Astrid said. "We haven't hashed out every single thing about our future, I'm not sure how long a future we have, you know? But we don't plan to go further than maybe two cats."

"You're not sure you have a future? But I thought you two were so happy," Olivia said.

"We're happy," Astrid said. "I love her. But I don't like to plan too far ahead."

"Did you get your second cat?"

"We're arguing about which one we want," Astrid said.

Lincoln sat down with them. "I think you should get the black cat, they have the most trouble getting adopted. Plus, he'll match Picard."

Olivia said, "How do you know that about the adoption rates?"

"Asher wants a cat," Lincoln said. "I say no, he sends me articles about shelter pets who need adoption."

Astrid said, "Do you want kids?"

"We've reached that level of intimacy," Lincoln said, with a nervous smile.

"You don't have to answer, sorry," Astrid said. "We were just talking about it. How I don't want any. Olivia already has one and is probably planning on more -"

"I didn't say that," Olivia said.

"Every time we go over to see Peter, he mentions the next kid," Lincoln said. "I think he said he wants four."

"That's not happening," Olivia said.

"Asher and I are waiting to see if the time comes that we want one," Lincoln said.

"You're waiting for a sign from the stars," Olivia said.

"Basically," Lincoln said.

Livvy came in, saying, "Good morning." She barely smiled. "Let's get to work."

Walter had set up chairs they could both sit in and monitor their brain waves and other measurements Olivia didn't care about. Olivia was pretty sure Livvy thought Olivia was undisciplined and soft. It was amusing to Olivia that she came off the way to anyone, but she tried to hide it.

Livvy was disciplined. She ran through exercises like they were scales on the piano, stretching the cortexiphan muscles. Then they would focus on all of the various powers Walters had gifted them. Olivia had difficulty seeing beyond the other side to other parallel universes. Livvy was still keyed to the other side thanks to Maxim's torture instead of her own home.

Recently, though, Livvy had started to see her home. Olivia would try to follow her there with her thoughts but it was just starting to work. It had taken nearly two months.

Today it all clicked, finally. Livvy immediately saw her universe, spreading out from Harvard to the place in Quincy where the FBI had moved to after the events Olivia had seen in 2009. Olivia saw it all with her.

Olivia called Peter to let him know they were finally getting Livvy home. He met them in the street in Quincy where they had found the right place. Henry stayed asleep in stroller like a champ. Livvy actually smiled, genuinely happy to see Peter.

"I hope our Peter is like you," Livvy said.

"I hope he's better," Peter said. He gave her the schematics of the machine, the coordinates to retrieve the parts and a thumb drive. "I don't remember everything, but I remember what I did in there. I tried to write it all out with the appropriate equations and the like. Hopefully you can convince that Peter to do this. Tell him not to grab any babies or let any timelines be overwritten and he should be fine."

Livvy even hugged Olivia. It was awkward. Olivia said, "You're my favorite alternate of me."

Livvy laughed. "I know that's a very low bar, but I deserve that."

After all the goodbyes were done, Livvy closed her eyes and spread her arms. Olivia saw the shimmer as she disappeared. Walter ran over to Olivia and said, "Now see that she's okay."

"I know, Walter," Olivia said. She closed her eyes and did the viewing trick as she thought of it. She saw Livvy running inside and a version of Charlie running out as he saw her. They met in a rapturous hug. "Aww," she said. "She's home."

Peter hugged her from behind. "Okay, so I think you can call it a day. We sort of saved two more universes."

Broyles shook his head but he did wave them off.

Henry actually stayed asleep as Peter drove Olivia home. "Did you drug him?"

"Yes, I got him drunk," Peter said. "No, he's just tired. You might remember he got up super early this morning."

"Oh, I remember," Olivia said. She looked out the window. "I remember you when you were miserable. You were clinically depressed, but also, you were so sad. I still loved you, you weren't some monster."

"Just a little choking," Peter said. "And shooting."

"Only that once," Olivia said. "I love you happy. It's like, maybe it's who you were meant to be."

"I don't believe in meant to be," Peter said. "I don't believe in fate. We weren't meant to be, we chose each other and that's wonderful, that's all that's meant to be, people's choices. Life is random and terrifying and miraculous. I'm not who I was meant to be, I'm not the purest essence of Peter. All the bad memories my mind won't let me see are still under everything. I have nightmares about them that are just shapes and emotions crashing into each other."

"I would forget my stepfather if I could," Olivia said.

"Well, I've literally forgotten the first time you told me about him because something in me has decided I need to be spared. I want to remember that," Peter said.

"It wasn't that exciting. I had yelled at you for no reason and you said you didn't deserve it and I told you, because you were you. I never even told John. I only told Charlie because he was there when the letter came to the FBI office. But you I told after knowing you six weeks," Olivia said.

"See, I want that back," Peter said. "Are you worried I'll be ill again?"

"No," Olivia said. "No. It's nice that the machine decided to rewrite your brain chemistry so you're no longer depressed or ill like that. But I'm not worried about you being ill."

"I still want to let Walter have his way with me," Peter said. "Would you really hate that?"

"Letting Walter do anything to you is scary as hell," Olivia said. "I wouldn't hate it like I would stop you. But I wish, I don't want you to do it for me."

"I'm being totally selfish," Peter said. "I'm not doing it for you."

"Just remember, Henry needs you." Olivia put her hand on his leg. "Pull over."

Peter looked at her skeptically. "This is turning you on?"

"No, just pull over." Peter did so and now he looked worried. Olivia said, "I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."

"That's, that's wonderful news. That's great," he said. He kissed her, his warm lovely hands on her cheeks. "I would not have caused an accident if you just told me while I was driving."

"I want you to kiss me," she said. He did, again.

!

"This is disgusting," Olivia said. She told herself she would have felt queasy even without being pregnant. Judging by Lincoln's face, she was justified.

"We've just begun the examination," Broyles said. Even Walter looked taken aback.

"Examining hundreds of bodies can take a while," Lincoln said.

They were stacked haphazardly in the bottom of a gorge in upstate New York. Walter took a deep breath and waded in. "How does this happen with no one noticing? None of these bodies look more than a month or two dead," Olivia said.

"Because we believe they are all from the other side," Broyles said. "They weren't noticed here because of the difficulty getting down here. If that hiker hadn't died in an accident falling down here and his family hadn't insisted on recovering the body, we wouldn't have known they were here."

Olivia looked at them again and saw it, the glimmer over everything. "They are from the other side. Why haven't they told us they're suddenly missing hundreds of people?"

"I checked," Broyles said. "They don't have those kind of reports. Nothing like this."

Walter was making cursory physical examinations of the bodies. He said, "Everyone I've examined so far appears to been killed by simply breaking the neck." He made a gesture Olivia recognized as twisting the neck.

"Okay," Broyles said. "We need to bring out an entire team discreetly and identify each body. Full biohazard procedures in place, we don't know if these people had small pox or dormant bird flu." Broyles sighed. "We'll send the identities to the other side and see if that helps us figure out where these people came from."

"I bet it's Maxim," Lincoln said. "He's been too quiet. Maybe this is what he's been doing."

"It fits his MO of indiscriminate death," Olivia said. "But why? Livvy said it was painful for him to travel back and forth. If he's done it this many times, he must be in agony."

"And this body on top looks to be only days dead," Walter said.

"Maybe he's moved on to another gorge," Olivia said.

Lincoln said, "We should search, but as covertly as we can. If we can catch him before he moves on, it would be our first stroke of luck." He rubbed his forehead. "Do you need us down here anymore?"

"No," Broyles said. "Dr. Bishop, we'll have a sample of the bodies sent to your lab."

"Yes," Walter said, backing up. "Yes, but just a few."

!

Peter went to see his father again. Henry was with his grandmother, and Peter was enjoying the time away from his kid. He wasn't going to feel guilty about it, he spent every hour with Henry normally, he would take these hours off.

Walternate answered the door and waved Peter to sit down.

"You actually called me, sort of," Peter said.

"You seem wed to your naivete enough to trust me," Walter said. He handed over a tablet. "Do you need me to explain that?"

"Readings on Madison Square Garden," Peter said. "The integrity of the amber seems to be compromised. I know what this is. God."

"I assumed you would," Walter said. He didn't ask, like he hadn't asked about Peter's wedding ring on the last two visits. Like he never asked about anything.

"I believe someone is taking people out of the amber, killing and dumping them. We've found so many bodies. This is incredibly helpful, thank you," Peter said.

Walter didn't smile. He said, "I hope you'll tell me when it's resolved."

"I will," Peter said. He did smile. "You know I got married."

"I saw the ring," Walter said.

"Don't worry, she hates you so there won't be any awkward Thanksgiving invitations." Peter took a recent picture of Henry out of his pocket. "You're a grandfather, too. Number two is on the way."

Walter looked down at the picture on the table, but didn't touch it. Walter said, "Despite the physical resemblance, I don't see how this child could be yours."

"He is, I just took him from a parallel universe where he was about to erased by the timeline. While I was in the machine," Peter said.

"Insane act," Walter said. "You should know better."

"I do, I didn't break any barriers, no one misses him. I could see the timeline changing like a wave, he was about to be erased. But yes, it wasn't the smartest thing," Peter said. "I don't regret it."

"You will when they come for you, when it rains down on your world."

"It won't," Peter said. He left the picture as he stood up. "Thanks for the help, again, I need to get this to Fringe division."

For once, Walter said goodbye and didn't sound like he was saying fuck you underneath it.

!

The two Broyles coordinated bringing the two teams together around Madison Square Garden. The night before, Liv and Lincoln ate dinner, and fucked on the large bed Lincoln had recently bought. Liv had told him to upgrade to something sturdy. She sat on his thighs, feeling exhausted but happy.

Lincoln said, "I don't want to have sex with anyone else but you for forever. Our new long forever. Unless we both decide and the person is someone we both find attractive. I want you to have all my things when I die, except for the things I've promised Charlie or my mom. I will assign you my death benefits. If the two of us ever decide we want to be parents, I only want to parent with you."

Liv smiled. "Are those our rules?"

Lincoln nodded. He gripped her warm thighs. "They seem like good rules, right?"

Liv said, "If we ever decide to be parents, I want you to be the father. I want you and my mom to get my death benefits. You have better stuff than me, but if I die first, you can have my crap. We only have sex with each other unless we're both equally turned on by the person. We should live together forever, all that very long time, even when your penis is so much less pretty."

"It's like we're saying vows," Lincoln said, a tired smile on his face. "And I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I feel like I should reward you for not making a joke out of that," Lincoln said.

"I know, it was really hard to resist," Liv said. She leaned down and kissed him.

!

Lincoln forced himself to walk over to Olivia. She was wearing a long coat, but when she moved and it opened, he could see her small belly. He said, "Congratulations."

She was so closed off compared to Liv. She smiled slightly. She said, "Thank you."

Lincoln said, "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I like to think if Charlie and I had known, we would have helped you. We didn't know."

Olivia looked at him, her eyes wide. "I would think so, too. You didn't do it to me."

"You were a really good agent," Lincoln said.

"Yes, I was," Olivia said. "Sorry, I'm not enjoying being benched." She absently touched her round belly.

"You're not very benched," Lincoln said. "You're here while we wait for a homicidal maniac to show up and use his superpowers to open this huge wormhole."

"You and I are out here, way out here," Olivia said.

Lincoln's cuff crackled. "We've spotted him," Liv said.

"Coming," Lincoln said.

Olivia said, "I'll wait here." She drew her gun and stood at the ready.

Lincoln went over to the side of Madison Square Garden Maxim was approaching from. Liv, he knew, he couldn't see but she wouldn't miss her shot from wherever she was.

He saw Maxim walking and Peter walking towards him. Peter said, "You can stop right now." He had his hands out, no weapons. It had been Peter's idea to try to reason with the maniac.

Maxim shook his head. "Why would I? I'm very close. This wormhole will open, become so large it sucks up everything. It's what the world deserves. Every world." Maxim looked like death, emaciated, grey skin, patchy hair, wild eyes.

"We're obviously going to stop you," Peter said. "Instead, we can help you." Peter had stopped about twenty feet from the edge of the amber.

"I don't think it's so obvious you're going to stop me. How do you know I'm only working on this wormhole? This pile of amber? I'm not. I have ten. Even if you end this now, how will you stop all of them?" Maxim even had an ugly, raspy voice. He didn't seem to be using his powers yet.

Peter grimaced. "You'd be amazed what people can measure. We can strengthen all of them. In time, we will get these people out on their own as the wormholes close. Which you don't care about."

Lincoln had reached Maxim's side, about 20 feet to his right. The other Lincoln was on Maxim's opposite side. They both had their guns trained on him.

"Nothing about this universe or any universe should survive," Maxim said. "Nothing should survive."

Lincoln noticed one of Maxim's hands had been crudely amputated. Then Lincoln's chest was exploding and he was flat on his back. He pushed himself up and saw the other Lincoln had been knocked down, too.

Maxim had his one good hand around Peter's neck, squeezing. Choking, Lincoln thought. Peter's face was red, his hands grasping at Maxim's arm. Peter gasped and Lincoln saw blood from Maxim's nails starting to drip from Peter's neck.

Two sharp sounds and Maxim was on the ground, half his head gone. Lincoln said, "Good work, Liv."

Peter rubbed his neck. He looked up where Liv was and smiled. He waved, too, his hand bloody, and then went over to his Lincoln. He said, "We need to find those other nine spots."

Broyles, Lincoln's Broyles, said, "Apparently we should consult the ex-Secretary on that."

"Sounds like a great idea," Peter said. "I guess I get to do that." He pulled up his t-shirt to staunch the blood from the shallow half moons on his neck.

Olivia was suddenly at Lincoln's side, helping him up. She smiled at him. She even said, "You should get checked out. That guy can pack a punch."

"Yeah," Lincoln said.

On the private line of his cuff, Lincoln heard Liv said, "Stop flirting with her."

Lincoln turned away while Olivia went over to the other Lincoln and Peter. He said, "You weren't tempted to wait one second on that shot?"

Liv said, "Not even for a second."

"I would have," Lincoln said.

"I guess I'm a better person than you," Liv said. He could hear her smile.

!

There was nothing they could do about all the dead. Astrid suggested they save personal items so maybe someday they could give it to the families. The other side took the tagged personal items and stored them somewhere. Or they threw them out and didn't tell Astrid or Peter or Broyles.

Thanks to Walternate's help, they identified all the amber spots that were about to collapse. Walternate sat down with Peter and invented a new way to shore up the sites. He was softening, Peter though. He even watched a video of Henry spinning and rolling. Though Peter made everyone watch that video so it was more likely a sign of Peter's persistence than anything from his father.

Peter's dad, the Walter who kidnapped and raised him, settled into living alone. They always kept a FBI agent outside the house for times when Walter decided to wander, but Walter did okay on his own. Astrid and Lincoln visited for their own pleasure. Peter brought Henry over, but Henry was never left alone with Grandpa. No one trusted Walter that he wouldn't try some experiment.

One Sunday morning Peter came back from settling Henry into his nap to Olivia sitting up on the bed, looking pensive, one arm around her 20 weeks pregnant belly. He sat down next to her and she leaned into him, hugged him.

She said, "I don't know if I'll be any good at this. My mind, my body, I'm just an experiment."

"You haven't screwed up Henry yet," he said.

"That's helpful," she said. "I thought of her name, though, If you like it. I thought we could name her Alice."

"You know I love those Roosevelts," Peter said. "I do like it."

"You're the only one who's going to think of Roosevelts," Olivia said.

"You and I are the ones that matter. Once she's here, she'll make it her own," Peter said. "I've already forgotten any other Henrys."

She burrowed into him, her grip tight on his back.

He said, "I started Walter's get-your-memory-back therapy. You know the first thing I remembered? When you called. You called and said you were back. I could feel myself go cold and something in me snapped. I looked over at her asleep and shook her. I lied, I never asked her anything, I immediately went for her throat. I didn't feel anything about it except I had to. She rolled off the bed and hit her head and I choked her. Her head bounced on the floor. I choked her again and then I got up and got her gun. I sat down and shot her from there. So she wouldn't get up. I felt nothing but a sense of rightness, emptiness and rage."

Olivia sighed against him. He put his hand over hers on her belly. He said, "So Alice, you need to be a much much better person than your father."

"Than both of us," Olivia said.

"Me more than you, though," Peter said.

"This is a good thing to be competitive about," Olivia said. She tightened her grip on his back. "I love you anyway."

"I am better than both my fathers, at least," Peter said.

"Teeny tiny bar to get over," Olivia said, with almost a laugh.

"But I did it," Peter said.


End file.
